


ice will rise from the dead

by BloodyMary, OphisPeleia



Series: Forbears of what will be [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends (Dark Horse Comics), Star Wars Legends: Dawn of the Jedi (Comics)
Genre: AU, Ace character, Asexual Character, Daegen's Snark Hour, Daegen's and Xesh's Comedy Hour, Fix-Fic, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Je'daii, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Republic Era, Self-Harm, The Dark Side of the Force, Tython, alternative universe, and about societies, balance, dawn of the jedi, how to get someone out of the Dark Side, lots of philosophical stuff about the Force, my plot bunnies have taken over, the most effective way is not what you think, there are also snark battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 66,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyMary/pseuds/BloodyMary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OphisPeleia/pseuds/OphisPeleia
Summary: In the ancient past, the mysterious Tho-yor brought Force sensitive members of various species to Tython. There, out of the sight of the Infinite Empire, they have flourished. But they would not remain hidden forever. One of the Force Hounds has sensed Tython and now a scouting mission is on its way....Except their landing could have gone better.(Alternatively, I've read Dawn of the Jedi and decided it needs an AU.)





	1. Where A Landing Could Have Gone Better and So Could First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is going to be very AU. Just so that you know. If you want to check what I've changed, there's a summary at the bottom with the reasons why. But in general, I'm trying to make the story comply more with the new canon.

The air smelled of hot metal and molten plastic. He stumbled out of the heat, out of the smoke, coughing and retching despite the helmet's filters, and fell to his knees. He coughed, his chest radiating the familiar pain that meant a cracked rib, and he barely managed to raise his arms high enough and wrench his helmet off before throwing up.

He took another two ragged gulps of air—it was a bad idea, his cracked rib was throbbing every time—and wiped his mouth with his hand. Then he picked himself up, and looked around. His vision swam with every move, but he could make out enough details to realize what must have happened. There was debris and the burning escape pod behind him—his master ought to have been with him-

He had killed him. He had killed his master—the memory was off, only sensations and no motives—the smell of charred flesh, the sound of air escaping lungs, screams and fire. Why had he done this?

He couldn't answer the question, and pushed it back—it wasn’t the right time, he shouldn't stop, he needed to get away to a safer distance. Hide. If this planet was inhabited, someone would come to find out what happened, and he was wounded. At a disadvantage.

Another few steps—he was in a canyon of some sort. Another disadvantage. He was visible from above, but couldn't see anyone coming from that angle, and climbing out would be difficult and dangerous with a cracked rib, if not impossible. He would have to stay exposed, until he found an easier route.

He had no choice—he had to move forwards, he couldn't go back, he couldn't hide. His vision blurred and he almost tripped, only barely managing to steady himself against the rock beside him. He blinked, trying to force his eyes to focus, but to no avail. He tried not to think that the dull pounding behind his eyes and the problems seeing meant a concussion. The cracked rib was already bad—if somebody found him-

He didn't want to die. Not yet. Not here.

A few more steps, and there was a turn—and he realized he could hear voices only just when reached it. Two? Three? Just over the corner, he should have sensed their presence—he was too focused on trivial things, like injuries. He still had all his limbs, he was not bleeding out, he was in a fighting condition.

He pressed his back against the stone—it was cool even through the leather parts of his armour—and listened.

Three voices—a deep, male one, and two female ones. They were close. Too close—his breath quickened and he felt his hands curl into fists. He unclenched one and gripped the hilt of his 'saber. His hands felt cold, despite the gauntlets, and there was ice in his stomach.

The voices were closer now.

“I think I sense someone,” the higher female voice announced. He knew then the time for hiding was up. He reached out with his mind, trying to get a sense of where his opponents were—sensing them was easy, they were bright in the Force—the man on point, one woman in the middle, the other guarding the rear. 

They were only a few steps away, another moment and they would be past where the canyon wall turned. No time to plan, so he pushed himself away from the stone and broke into a run.

He hurled himself around the corner and slammed into the man, shoulder connecting with his chest. He was a brute, much bigger than Xesh, so he couldn’t fully over-balance him. Not a species he recognized—sort of like a red twi’lek with striped head-tails and horns. He reached out to grab one of the tails, but before he could grab it one of the women—a blue twi'lek—lashed out with the Force, and sent him flying. He braced for impact, but there was still a worrying crack and his side started hurting worse, when he hit the canyon wall. Ignoring the pain, he picked himself up and threw the nearest object at the one who attacked him.

She tried to move out of the way—a blur of glittering fabric and blue skin—and the stone didn’t hit the centre of her mass, but rather her shoulder. Her cry was sharp and loud, and she gripped her arm.

“Stop that!” the second woman snapped and moved between him and the others—he heard and felt her anger, like flames flickering against his skin. “We're not going to hurt you, you idiot!”

“Think of a better lie,” he growled, his attention snapping to her. She was broad-shouldered and tall, with chalk-white skin and silver hair. Like the other two, she was unarmed, but did not hesitate to move between them and Xesh.  

Her anger did not fade and she looked insulted—good, maybe that would make her incautious and give him some edge.

She opened her mouth, intending to reply, and he jumped at her then, finally managing to clear enough fog in his head to remember to activate his 'saber. His side hurt too much for a full swing, though, and the woman dove out of the way.

She kicked his wrist, hard enough to jolt him and make him drop his weapon. It clattered down at his foot, and the woman kicked it towards the other two. Xesh tried to catch it, but that only resulted in another spike of pain in his side, and him ending up on the ground, clutching his chest.

He sensed the man move past the woman, muscles rippling under red skin, likely intending to use his size and greater reach to overpower Xesh. He rolled out of his way, each breath laboured and painful. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of giving up, though, and he somehow found the strength to pick himself up. His vision was swimming again, his opponents more like vague shapes at a distance he can no longer tell. 

He wouldn't win this. Not in this state.

He took stumbling step back, and tried to find some venue of escape, but he couldn't see any. Behind him there was the burning wreckage, the canyon walls too high and steep to even think about scaling them, and the three Force-sensitives were blocking the only other way out.

He sensed movement behind him before he had heard it—scales scraping against sand and stone, but it was still too late. He had no time to react, too sluggish from pain and dizziness, and only realized he's alive, when air rushed behind him. There was a hand on his wrist—one of the women pushed him behind her. He landed on his knees, and looked up at her—it was the tall one with white skin. 

The shape before her was huge—slithering, snake-like body and a maw that was full of needle-like teeth, but somehow she didn’t seem dwarfed by it. He couldn't sense anger from her anymore—just a kind of serenity, like the soft light of a moon over a lake. She was holding her hand out, a commanding gesture, holding the snake-like creature at bay somehow.

The snake-like creature backed off slightly, and hesitated. It tossed its head to the side, and made a kind of wet hiss.

The woman before him was trembling with effort, and barked at the other two, “I can't keep it away for too long. Get away!”

He didn't grasp what she meant, not until he felt hands gripping his arm and someone helped him up, and pulled him back even further. He reeled, and watches the man toss his ‘saber to the woman. It hissed as sand melted against the blade, until it stopped near the woman’s foot. She picked it up slowly, never breaking eye-contact with the snake-thing. None of it made sense—she was not wounded—she should have left him or the twi'lek behind and run-

Instead, the other two would leave her behind for that thing to extinguish her and she would let them—and that somehow seemed much worse than him dying. He twisted out of the grip of whoever had grabbed him and gathered all his strength and anger at the mere idea that they’d let it happen.

He pulled at the canyon walls and tore chunks of rock off, then hurled them at the snake-thing. It took out almost everything out of him. His legs gave out, but there was a wet thud and the sand swirled around him for a moment. Somehow, he couldn't manage to find his fear or anger anymore. There were worse ways to die—he didn’t know why he’d think that, but his mind was too sluggish to try and think of anything.

The white-skinned woman knelt down in front of him—a blur of white and dark grey. There was something he should say to her, he thought. She’d tried to protect him and that meant… something. But the only think that he managed to dredge out from the wiry wool that had replaced his mind were the words the fallen were meant to say to the victor

“I sought death in battle, but if this is my fate, then so be it,” he said. “When you eat my body, my heart is yours. You won it.”

Her eyes widened in shock, and she recoiled. “We don't do that.”

It was only then that he realized she might not have been lying when she had said they wouldn't hurt him.

“Oh,” he said just as everything went black.

  

* * *

 

 

“I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?” Shae groaned as she looked at the unconscious man with an expression that was part dismay, part horror and embarrassment. He was human as far as she could tell and looked about her age, she thought—it wasn't that easy to tell, though. Starting with the tattoo—the letter “xesh” in pale purple ink over his nose and eyelids. She briefly wondered why anyone would have _that_ tattooed. A fresh bruise was discolouring one of his eyes, blood crusting over the other—there was a nasty looking cut over his eyebrow. Another bruise, older but still visible was covering a part of his chin, and there were several cuts over his lips. The parts of his skin that were not covered in blood or bruises, were tan. Black hair clung to his face, some of it stuck to the dry blood.

The metal chest plate was somewhat dented, and Shae could see several tears in the black padded leather that made up most of his armour, with more scabbing cuts and bruises peeking out from underneath.

“Hey, you got him to stop trying to kill us,” Sek'nos replied and shrugged his massive shoulders. “You're getting no complaints from me.” He peered down at the unconscious survivor, orange eyes narrowing  and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Took him long enough to figure out that we're not enemies.”

He then looked at the splattered remains of the saarl, and absentmindedly rubbed the forming bruise on his chest. Shae tried not to think about the moment when the rocks tore away from the cliff and slammed into the poor animal. True, it had been intending to eat them, but that was just its nature.

“He didn't,” Tasha pointed out, as she knelt down next to Shae, the dark blue fabric of her overcoat spilling around her and gathering dust. “He still thought we were going to kill him. And eat him. _I_ would have tried to kill anyone who'd want to do that to me—is it really so strange he did?”

She winced and shook her head, one lekku sliding over her shoulder. Her blue eyes were wide, concerned. “That doesn't look good. I don't think we should move him.”

“One of us needs to go back, admit to being stupid and ask for help transporting someone with injuries the extent we don't know of,” Shae said firmly. Someone had to make decisions, and it seemed it was up to her.

“I'll go,” Tasha said quickly. “He seems to have... I don't know, decided he'd rather get killed by you-” she nodded at Shae, “rather than anything else, and you're not wounded. So, if he wakes up and you need to subdue him, you and Sek'nos will manage.” She rubbed her arm. “I'm going to be a liability.”

Sek'nos looked doubtful, as he rubbed one of the navy blue stripes on his left montral. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like he intended to voice his doubts, which meant that it was up to Shae to do so.

“And you are going to get yourself eaten on the way,” she said, somewhat testily. Sometimes Tasha seemed to be competing for the title of Little Miss Perfect Martyr, really. “Sek'nos, you go.” When he gave her a doubtful look, she scoffed, then picked up the now inactive energy blade—quite like the weapons Master Madog had been experimenting with, come to think of it. Then, she handed it to the young togruta. “You take that. I'll tell him he has to go with us, if he wants it back, if he still wants to fight and if he wakes up at all.”

She gave the unconscious man another doubtful look. “He's pretty badly battered. I really don't think he will wake up. We're in more danger from scavengers than him.”

That seemed to convince Sek'nos. He slapped Shae's shoulder in encouragement and grinned at Tasha, before turning back and breaking into a brisk jog. Shae watched him go, before looking back to the unconscious mystery man. 

She wasn't an expert on healing humans—or well, any other sentient beings—but she could at least check if there was anything immediate to be done.

 

* * *

 

The light leaking from the reinforced windows illuminated only a fraction of the ocean beyond them. Just enough for curious fish and cephalopods to occasionally stop and watch, until an opportunistic carnivore chased them away. It was the sight that anyone who needed to visit the heads of the Temple of Healing was greeted with.

Jia Ter Aen sat straight, hands folded on eir lap. Eir large green ears were drooping, but otherwise ey was not showing any signs of eir mood. Nevertheless, Calleh could sense that the younger healer was upset. Unlike herself, Jia did not find the view from the windows soothing. Land-dwelling species tended to be unnerved by being reminded that the Temple of Healing was partially submerged. It clearly was not helping Jia to centre eirself now.

Calleh waited politely for the younger healer to gather eir wits, until finally eir emotions settled into a calmer state.

“The patient is stable,” Jia said, eir tone business-like. “The initial assessment of his the most serious injuries was correct—he has a concussion, one broken rib and two cracked ones. There is a number of smaller cuts and bruises. He exhausted himself quite badly, but I sedated him nonetheless.”

“But?” Calleh asked. She could guess at least a part of what was bothering Jia—after all, she could also sense the young human. Even unconscious, he exuded a sense of wrongness in the Force. It made her think of a bird caught in an oil-spill.

“That were by far not only injuries he's suffered during his life—he has scars that are consistent with battle injuries—a disturbing number in someone so young. Some seem to be years old—he would have been in his early teens when he acquired them,” Jia said. Ey paused, before continuing. “There are others—mostly burns, which are not consistent with battle. They look consistent with self-harm patterns.”

Calleh put one blue-green hand on Jia's shoulder in a gesture of support, her webbed fingers curling around it. As healers, they dealt with so many things that were beyond upsetting. And sometimes, it could be too much.

Jia was still young—at least among her species. It would be a pity, if this trial would prove too much for her.

“Some of them are... he's in his early twenties, most likely,” Jia continued. “Some of his scars are from early childhood.” She looked away. “He’s also slightly under-weight for his size.”

Calleh blinked and waited. There was more coming—she did not need the Force to guess, merely her experience.

“And he feels wrong in the Force. Like... like a wound that has been left open for too long,” Jia said finally, eir ears drooping even lower. 

“I understand,” Calleh said. “But you must remember that your pain does not help those you heal. Focus on what you can fix, Jia.”

The younger healer exhaled slowly and nodded. “I will compile a report for the Council. And inform them when the patient will be fit to answer questions.” 

She stood up and left Calleh to her own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sek’nos and his family ended up Togruta, because I’m more familiar with the new canon and I don’t know if there was a Sith species there. I was debating renaming them, but in the end, I decided to just go with another species that has red members.  
> \- Shae is still Dathomirian, but since they're a separate species in new canon, rather than human/zabrak hybrids, so the same applies to her. She’s taller than her human version, because well… look at Talzin.  
> \- I’m sticking to Tython, because remaking it to Ahch-To and making it a more of a water world was too much.  
> \- I also decided to do a different take on the Force than DotJ – this is going to be explored in the story itself of how it works, but for now, I'm going to say that someone from Tython can't swing between the Dark Side, Balance and Light Side at will.  
> \- Tython is a bit safer and doesn't throw fits when someone purely Dark Sided lands.  
> \- And since so far canon didn’t give us a homeplanet for Yoda’s species I put them on Tython, because I’m already changing things, might as well do that.


	2. Where A Desert Prophet Re-joins Society and Makes Himself Presentable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to check what I've changed, there's a summary at the bottom with the reasons why. But in general, I'm trying to make the story comply more with the new canon.

The man had no face, only oily darkness that was spreading through his veins under the thick grey skin. Eating him from the inside and outside.

There was shouting, words like static—demands for blood, for death, for a show.

He wanted to spring forward, but he couldn’t—something coiled around his legs, holding him in place as the man approached—and no, his skin wasn’t grey, why had he thought it had been? It was tan, like his own, familiar scars snaking down his arms and-

A hand gripped his thigh, another his ankle, nails digging into skin. He couldn’t move, and if he couldn’t move, he couldn’t fight. 

If he couldn’t fight, he’d die. It would be his blood on the sand, his body for the feast. The man was now nothing but darkness, and close enough for him to strike. He watched the black arms raise and start to fall, fingers coiled around a ‘saber, but then something pulled Xesh back.

A hand on his wrist, another over his mouth and nose. A woman, her black hair bound into a thick braid was holding the dark figure by its wrists. She looked almost like a giant then, and then the dark shape lashed out with a leg. 

The woman stumbled and the blade fell.

Her head rolled, and when it stopped, he knew who it was. Thick white dreadlocks had taken the place of the dark braid, and her eyes were milky white. Her body was so much smaller now—a broken doll, its strings cut.

Blood flowed over the sand, but it never quenched its thirst. 

They were still shouting—for blood, for death.

There would be no escape and no rescue. He was alone and he had to fight, if he wanted to survive.

 

* * *

 

 

The content of Quan-Jang’s mug of tea had long ago gone from hot to barely tepid. Unfortunately, he only discovered it now, having taken a sip. It wasn’t even that the report he had been reading was written in a riveting style, but what was found among the remains of the escape pod and crashed ship…

Not much of the actual vessel had survived—the speed at which the ship had met the surface of Tython had seen to that. There was something that Tem’s engineers guessed should be a black box, although apparently it looked more like neon orange arachnid. Curiously, there was no sign of a power source—no radioactive materials, no fossil fuel…

The escape pod had been hit by some of the debris, and while it was in one piece, it was also fairly badly banged up. Still, it clearly had done its purpose and delivered the survivor in more or less one piece.

Sadly, nothing they had found so far bore any hints as to why the ship had crashed or what it had carried aside from the young human. There were traces of organic matter, but most of it seemed to have burned up during atmospheric entry. It could have been food, it could have been one or two other passengers. They had managed to establish that the crew of the ship would have been no more than three, given its size.

There were other details in the report—the composition of the materials the ship was made of, a thorough description of all the parts that had been found… But it seemed that unless they broke the encryption of the black box, the only way they could shed light on this mystery was to ask the survivor.

The survivor who had been hostile to the first people he had met. The survivor who felt like a wound in the Force.

Quan-Jang gulped down more of his tepid tea and put away the datapad with the report. He had another matter that needed attending to. The way the survivor felt in the Force made him think of something that his former apprentice had said more than ten years ago, before he had gone to the Silent Desert to meditate on his vision of doom.

It did not appear he had reached any conclusions, given that he had not seen fit to return, but Quan-Jang had a feeling his time was up regardless of that. Daegen was going to have to come back and get involved again.

 

* * *

 

 

The room was one of many such in the Temple of Healing—white walls and floor covered with easy to clean tiles, and a nondescript bed. It was located deeper into the centre of the enormous structure, and so it had no actual windows, only screens showing the view outside or under the surface. Currently, they were displaying a storm—white-topped waves would crash against the force field that existed exactly in case of such bad weather. They’d sizzle then harmlessly, far from the temple.

The survivor of the crash rose as soon as Rajivari, Ketu and the Sek matriarch had entered the room, with the Master of Akar Kesh in the lead and Rajivari last. He was only by Ketu’s request here—to show good will and willingness to work with the Council that had voted him out of his seat.

And so, thanks to politics, he had been the last one to see the offworlder. He was a boy of maybe nineteen years—twenty at best. Dressed in a sick-gown, he looked perfectly ordinary, save for the noticeable scars on his legs. The long pale grey sleeves covered his arms, but Rajivari guessed they were similarly scarred.

What truly caught Rajivari’s attention was how the Force felt around the boy—it was alive with fear, anger and hate; like a trapped animal that knew it couldn’t run and wouldn’t survive a fight. The others must have sensed it too. He saw the Sek matriarch purse her lips as she stroked one of her lekku. She was the oldest of them all, and though age had bent her back and robbed her of some of her mass, but she still towered over him and Ketu. Certainly, the stripped horns added to an already imposing figure—something that a number of men had not failed to notice back in her youth.

“What's your name?” Ketu asked. Rajivari’s former student maintained a calm demeanour with ease, his thoughts and feelings guarded from anyone, even his teacher. His hands were laced together, his back straight and he his dark eyes hooded. 

The boy refused to meet their eyes stubbornly, features set in a scowl. His hands shook slightly, and he balled them into fists, so tight that the knuckles turned white.

“We'd rather not resort to calling you 'hey you',” Rajivari added. “What should we call you?”

“Xesh,” the boy answered curtly.

Well, they ought to have guessed. It was written on his face. Rajivari bit down several comments—there was no point in agitating the child any further.

“Can you tell us what happened to the ship you were on?” Ketu continued. He scratched his dark beard absent-mindedly, and the boy’s eyes followed the movement keenly.

“No,” he said.

“Can't or won't?” Rajivari asked dryly. This was getting tedious—surely, the boy was capable of answering not just in monosyllables.  

“I can't—I don't remember what happened,” the boy answered. He tensed up visibly, but it seemed like there might be getting somewhere now that he finally managed to spit out a full sentence. His accent was noticeable now that he said more than one word—sharp and clipped, with a distinct trill to the r’s. “We could have been running from a battle, or it could have been an accident or sabotage. 

“Then perhaps you remember what you were doing here?” the Sek matriarch asked, her tone gentle. She leant forward, the crystal beads of her tiara catching light with the movement.

The boy glanced at her, then resumed staring at the floor. “No. It could have been that my master wanted to conquer your world, or it could have been an accident.” 

Rajivari gave Ketu a sharp look. His former apprentice maintained a calm facade, but Rajivari could see his fingers tense for a moment. The Sek matriarch leant forward ever so slightly, the lines around her orange eyes growing deeper.

“With one ship?” Ketu asked.

The boy froze up completely for a moment, and then asked, “There was only one ship?”

Rajivari sensed no deceit. That was a genuine surprise for him, as odd as it was.  

“Yes,” the Sek matriarch said. “Don’t you remember?”

The boy shook his head. Rajivari sensed more fear from him, and it was still directed at them. He was expecting some sort of a negative reaction, that much was obvious.

“Will more come?” he asked.

“I don't- They might,” the boy answered. “If we were a scouting party then my master's superiors will send another. If it was anything else, they will want to know why he is gone.” He started rubbing his wrist as he talked.

Perhaps it was a self-soothing habit. 

The Sek matriarch took his hand then and examined his wrist with a frown. It was only cursory—the boy went absolutely still, his eyes fixed on the elder woman. Rajivari fully expected him to lash out in misguided self-defence, but instead he just went still, like a creature that knew there was no point in fighting back.

The woman let go of his hand a moment later, and Rajivari wondered if the hardening of her expression coupled with a surge of maternal anger were caused by what she saw or the boy’s reactions. She had always let that part of her nature cloud her vision to the bigger picture.

“Who is your master?” Ketu asked, and then added, “And what do you precisely mean by 'master'?”

“He was a predor of the Infinite Empire,” the boy answered. “He was to bring new worlds and slaves to the Empire.”

It all was starting to sound positively lovely, Rajivari thought. He simply couldn’t wait to hear more. He kept the comment to himself too.

“He owned me,” the boy continued. “I killed him. I... don't know if- I don't think I killed anyone else.”

“Why did you kill him?” Rajivari asked. He could guess a number of reasons, some of which would make everything less complicated, and some that would not. Given how the situation looks like already, he has a feeling it will not be first case.

“I don't- I can't remember,” the boy said. He looked up then, just for a brief moment, and asked, “Are you going to kill me now?”

“We have no intention of harming you,” Ketu said. It was met only with disbelief, which quickly turned into suspicion and fear.

Rajivari did not fail to notice, how the Force reacted to every emotion. It went beyond what he knew—in fact, many Force sensitives had claimed fear or anger made using the Force harder. That clearly was not the case with the boy though, and Rajivari wondered why.

It merited studying, at least. A peaceful state was naturally much more conductive of remaining rational, but Rajivari had an inkling the Force could be stirred up like this by something else. Something that would not cloud the mind. But that was something he would have to ponder upon later.

 

* * *

 

 

Shae remembered Master Quan's previous apprentice only vaguely. He had left the Temple of Science ten years ago or so, and she had seen him only once or twice. Most of what she recalled was that she had been looking up and up.

Now, they were nearly the same height, and he no longer seemed as imposing, even if he was one of the biggest humans she had met. But then, everyone seemed smaller when compared to a rancor.

She definitely didn't remember the beard, which looked more like a bush, or the hair which was more like something alive and ready to strangle you. It hung well past his back in a sort of bleached-brown tangle. She thought she spotted a desert hopper tangled in it at one point.

The smell had definitely not featured in her memories either.

Still, she worked with animals on a daily basis. She could take unwashed desert prophets.

“You've grown Shae Koda,” Daegen Lok informed her placidly. It was likely meant to be a greeting.

“I've been told children do this,” she answered, as she placed her hands on her hips. She gave him another once over, in case the first time didn’t convey her disapproval. “I take there were no bathrooms in the desert?”

“One uses the giant bathroom on the ground,” Daegen Lok replied dryly. “It builds character wonderfully. Especially the sun baking one's brain.”

“I will take your wisdom in consideration, Master Lok,” Shae answered sweetly. “Did the sun fry your memory, or do you remember how to find a bathroom?”

The older man flashed her a grin. “I even remember how to use it. But thank you nonetheless—it warms an old man's heart to see such kindness in one  so young.”

“Then I will inform Master Quan-Jang that you will be ready...” She paused and eyed the unkempt mane on Daegen Lok's head. It covered most of his back and looked like it could only be tamed by shaving it off completely.

“Three hours, or so,” he said with a shrug. “Four, if you are feeling generous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Xesh remembers more of his childhood before being enslaved.  
> \- Tul’kar and Xesh were on a scouting mission, and the ship was much smaller. The reasons for this will become apparent later.  
> \- The council voted Rajivari out of it for making proposals of the “Force-sensitives ought to rule over Force blind” kind. 
> 
> If anyone is interested into why, I'll happily answer either in comments or on my tumblr - look for bloodilymerry. Well, unless those are spoilers.


	3. Where the Council Chamber Décor Gets an Unexpected Update

Daegen Lok scratched at his beard, trying to get used to it being so much shorter now, as he entered the circular chamber that had served as the meeting place for the Council for as long as Tython had been settled. It looked quite like he remembered from the last time—large windows half-hidden behind maroon drapes (though, thankfully not the same ones as ten years ago) and a floor covered in a rather nondescript chocolate brown-and-tan mosaic.

The back of his neck felt unusually cold, not hidden by his hair anymore as it was. Or perhaps the Temple of Philosophy had always been this drafty and he hadn’t noticed the last time he had been there. He hadn't even realized how much his hair had weighed until he cut it, either. Apparently, one did not need to bake himself in the desert sun to learn new things—who would have imagined? 

He sat down behind the seat reserved for the Master of Science—he had remember to bring his own chair this time. Council sessions may have been rare, but they tended to consume time like a starved kaash, and Daegen did not feel any need to prove that he could stand for hours. Or sit on the cold floor, for the matter.

Once he was as comfortable as he would get on a folding chair, Daegen looked around to see if anything had changed. Out of the nine seats reserved for the Temple Masters, eight were already occupied, although some by different people. There was one more human among the Temple Masters, which meant that with him, there was six humans in the room in total.

Ketu—Rajivari’s apprentice—had actually replaced his teacher as the head of the Council and the Master of the Temple of Philosophy. They still sat next to one another. Ketu was stroking his beard, as listened to whatever Rajivari was whispering into his ear, the older man running his hand against his bald head, his face set into a frown. The lines around his face had grown more pronounced—but that tended to happen if one was so fond of making disapproving expressions.

Miarta Sek was still Master of Skills despite her age. She sat still, attended by another—much younger—togruta. A grandchild? At one point, the rumour was that she had decided to find out if she could give birth to an army all on her own. He did see some resemblance—mainly the facial markings and the size, since both Miarta and the young man, along with the Master of Apprentices were the only people in the room taller than him.

The boy seemed quite attractive, if one liked the type—and not averse to showing it off, given how he exposed his physique. Or perhaps the impressive horns and the long head-tails got in the way of putting on a shirt.

Quan-Jang, Daegen's own teacher and Master of Science, sat next to the old togruta, looking almost unchanged from the time he'd last seen him. There were a few more lines on his dark face and it appeared that something had taken a bite of his ear. Little Shae Koda was standing behind him—well, no longer little.

She and the young togruta exchanged glances.

He did not recognize the blue plump twi'lek woman on the seat of the Master of Knowledge. She seemed quite young for her position—a few years younger than Daegen definitely. Next to her a twi'lek girl bearing a rather uncanny similarity to the woman fidgeted.

Calleh and Naro still were holding the position of Master of Healing together, it appeared. The two selkath had entered with another healer—one of the diminutive green Tythonian natives, their hair gathered in a braid—and started talking in hushed voices with Ruhr, who had apparently been convinced to take become responsible for teaching.

And the wookiee had been protesting so loudly last time Daegen had seen him.

Lha-Mi sat opposite to them, serenely aloof as always. The talid was more social than most members of his species—which meant he actually interacted with people who were not of his own kind.

And then, there was a rather handsome blond human, who seemed to be the Master of Arts, given where he was seated. He did look the part—he had the same air of constipated etherealness that his predecessor had, despite coming from a completely different species. It didn't look too bad on him, though.

That was the point when Daegen told himself firmly that he had spent far too long a time in the desert.

Tem Madog entered last and took the place of the Master of the Forge. The cathar jumped over the seat and landed in a crouch, before sitting down and pretending to be a normal person. Perhaps some were fooled.

“What is so urgent, Ketu?” Lha-Mi asked an irritated tone tinting his voice. Well, the one responsible for the fighters was supposed to be aggressive.

“A possible invasion,” Ketu answered bluntly.

That... For a moment, Daegen felt as though the contents of his stomach had been replaced with ice. That was why he was here, then. His vision was coming to pass after all.

“We do not know for certain,” Ketu continued. “But given what we have heard from the survivor of the recent shipwreck, and what we know Master Lok had seen, it seems an exceedingly likely possibility.”

The chamber broke into an uproar, with several of the council-members speaking over one another.

“It would have been nice, if someone had brought me up to date before the meeting,” Daegen commented dryly to Quan-Jang.

“I would not dare to interrupt you with trivial things like that when you were making yourself presentable,” Quan-Jang replied placidly. “I have on good authority that your beard looked more like some wild animal attached itself to your face.” Then, he added, “We'll get a summary once everyone is done yelling.”

That seemed reasonable enough—the temples were quite far apart. It stood to reason that not everyone would have even been aware that a space ship had crashed on Tython. And even if the news had already spread, then likely it would be bereft of details.

“From what I, Masters Sek and Rajivari have learned, it appears the ship was most likely a scouting vessel from something called the Infinite Empire,” Ketu said, once the voices died down. “There was one survivor. He seems to be suffering from memory loss and could not tell us why the ship was in this system, or why it crashed.”

Which was singularly unhelpful of them, Daegen thought. Then, he wondered what kind of beings would be presumptuous enough to call their empire “the Infinite Empire”.

“ _Is this survivor the source of the darkness in the Force?_ ” Ruhr asked. He bared his fangs for a moment in a grimace of unease more than hostility.

“The one we feel on Tython, yes,” Rajivari said turning towards Ruhr. “We can guess that the shadow that we feel in the Galaxy comes from this Empire as a whole, and not from the boy.”

The wookiee's exasperated look was still something to behold. It spoke. And right now, it was practically yelling 'Really? You're condescending to me?' Too bad Rajivari's ego was his fortress and could withstand practically everything, save perhaps the conversational equivalent of an orbital strike. He hadn’t even blinked, let alone acknowledged that he was being a nuisance.

“Thank you, Master Rajivari, for enlightening us,” Daegen said, deciding he might as well enjoy himself. “Truly, we would have never guessed what Ruhr meant without you to explain to us, simple creatures. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to continue or let _Master_ Ketu do so, so we know what else you've learned from the survivor. Does he have a name, perchance?”

“It appears to be Xesh,” Miarta Sek said, her voice dry as the desert sand, before Rajivari had a chance to respond. A pity. Daegen had always wanted to see if he could actually goad the man. “He confirmed that the ship he was on could have been a scouting vessel, and regardless of its purpose, more will come. Likely unfriendly, and intent on enslaving those of us who will survive.”

And there went Daegen's hopes for keeping himself entertained.

“Then we will need to cooperate, so that we may find something that will discourage them,” the older twi'lek woman said. “I will have our historians look into anything useful in regards to the shadow in the Force.”

“Thank you, Kora,” Ketu said nodding towards the twi’lek. “I hope you will find something—it seems that the day when Master Lok's vision will come true is coming near. As not all of you have heard it, I'd ask you to repeat it to the Council once more, Daegen.”

And what fun that was going to be.

Daegen rose and stepped forward. “I saw war,” he said. “We were fighting creatures that fed on the Dark as it fed on them. And we were losing the war—there was too many of them. I saw you all die.”

He was not going to go into detail—he had spent enough time dissecting the vision already.

“I didn't see the whole war, so I cannot tell you where they will strike or what battles we will fight,” he said. “Only that if we let them, they will end us.”

“Did you see if they were of any specific race?” Miarta Sek asked orange eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” Daegen answered. “I don't know what it was though. I could probably draw a likeness, if you think this will help.”

The old  woman nodded. “Please do.”

“When you said that you saw us die, did you mean the current Council? Or everyone present in this room today?” Calleh asked gesturing with his hand to indicate the seated Masters.

Daegen looked around the room. Tense faces looked back at him. The twi’lek girl’s eyes were wide, but it wasn’t just from her that he sensed fear and worry. He breathed out slowly, and said, “I saw the current Council die, yes.”

The Selkath woman looked pensive at that. It was a reasonable reaction, since it likely meant their time for preparation was severely limited. Joy of joys. Weren't visions of doom a blast?

“We could use this Xesh for deciphering what was left from the ship's computer,” Quan-Jang suggested. “If he knows the codes, perhaps he will be willing to give them to us.”

Daegen took his as his queue to retreat and sit down again.

_“I do not like something—someone so Dark being on Tython at all,”_ Ruhr growled. _“It is unsettling the youngest and most sensitive padawans.”_

“None of us can remember a time when we did not sense Darkness in the wider Galaxy,” Ketu replied.

“And now we can guess the source, can we not?” Daegen interjected. “It's _people_.”

He wasn't sure what... galled him about it so badly—perhaps that it meant that something that was like a spreading sickness was not something supernatural after all? Or that the kind of malice could be something mundane?

All of them had been familiar with accessing the force through negative emotions—in the sense that they would see a child lash out in anger when their toy was taken, or perhaps one would strike a poisonous serpent in fear, but to actually continue using the Force like this—twisting it until it bent and broke—that required more than a strong emotion.

_That_ was the thing that was the worst part of his vision. That somewhere, out there, creatures existed that had felt what it was to be one with universe, and decided to break this for... what?

“As... pertinent as this observation is,” the Master of Arts said, “I think we are getting off topic here. We should all question this Xesh. Perhaps we can take a break and resume this session once he is brought here.”

“This is an excellent suggestion,” Ketu said. “Daegen, would you be so kind as to draw the invaders from your vision in the meantime?”

 

* * *

  

Xesh had given up on figuring out what is going to happen next to him. He probably should have realized he was in some sort of a place where nothing made sense some time ago, but he was stubborn, and he kept on trying for a while now.

He was a prisoner. Probably. The fact that the door was closed and he had no sharp objects on him definitely spoke for prison. The fact that he'd been given something to eat that obviously took much more effort to prepare then pretty much anything he'd ever been given to eat spoke against. Prisoners were a drain, unless put to work or sent to the arena. It made no sense to feed them well. They were supposed to die anyway.

Then again, they had treated his wounds. He was definitely not going to ever complain about that—but those too wounded to tend to their own injuries were also a drain on resources. It made more sense to kill them.

It could all have been some sort of a game—leave him to his devices and make him think of all the things they could do to him. If so, it had worked very well. It was still working very well, in fact.

Xesh bit into a part of his forearm that was not scarred, as he considered this. He really needed to think clearly, and all the fretting and worrying was clouding his mind. He needed something to drown it out. Something he knew how to deal with.

The room did not look like a cell to him. It was painted a pale beige, with some sort of a floral pattern in green just under the ceiling. There was a straw-coloured sofa facing a large window. He could see the overcast sky outside.

And then there was the small table on which someone had left some sort of crispy small snacks. That definitely couldn’t be for him, but since no one was watching, he snatched some anyway. By the time anyone noticed he ate them, it would be too late to take them back.

It looked more like a room where someone was meant to wait to be admitted somewhere, which told him nothing other than that the locals still wanted to know more from him.

They had already questioned him once: they had wanted to know who he was, why he was here and all sorts of things that a prisoner ought to be asked, though. Except, they had simply asked—there had been nothing that ought to accompany an interrogation. He supposed that mending his body only to injure him again would be something of a waste. Although, if they could heal him once, they could do it again—he had not mentioned that, in case it had not occurred to his odd captors. He did prefer to stay unharmed.

In the end, he told them what he could remember, as disjointed as it was. He had no master to be loyal to anymore, and no wish to find out what they would eventually do with him, if he refused. Although maybe the white-skinned woman who had faced the snake-thing was his master now. She was strong and brave, and he owed his life to her. That would make sense, wouldn't it? But in that case, he had done the right thing in telling them what he knew, since she was one of them.

He really wished he could remember what had happened before the crash—his memories were still mostly a jumbled mess. Why had they been here? It could have been anything—he could have sensed the world, and lead his master here; or there was some sort of rare animal his master had wanted to hunt; or they had been fighting and stopped to make repairs...

And yet, it was as if the memory had never formed. Try as he might, he could not remember boarding the ship or most of the travel. It was just flashes. Watching his master eat. The hum of engines. Meaningless, scattered things.

And then just as they were nearing the planet, he had killed him. He couldn't remember why. He couldn't remember how their ship got damaged. He'd never- No, that wasn't right. He could think of so many reasons why he'd want to kill his master, but somehow, they had never been good enough to act on.

Now they were. Something was wrong. Or... something had been wrong before?

The door hissed open, and he scrambled to his feet. There was weak stab of pain in his rib, reminding him it had been injured recently, and a moment of dizziness, but he thought he managed not to show either. There was two of them—a man with small horns around his head and dark facial markings and a big human woman.

“Come with us,” the man said. He had the same lilting accent as the old horned woman who had questioned him.

There was just two of them. He could try overpowering them and escape. But they were both strong in the Force, armed and bigger than him. Even if he'd manage to do it, there was still the matter of getting out of the building—he had no idea about its layout.

Was there even a reason for him to run?

He followed the man, while the woman fell in behind him. He felt no threat from her, but it helped absolutely nothing with the creeping sense of unease that caused. She was just too calm—he kept wondering if he'd even sense her coming, or if she'd remain serenely aloof as she stabbed him in the back.

It was irrational—or at least he told himself so. They could have executed him earlier. If they hadn't done so yet, they wouldn't do it unless he gave them a reason.

Except that was not how the galaxy worked, he thought as they walked down the spacious hall and passed what looked like little gardens interspaced with large windows. Perhaps they had grown bored with whatever game they were playing with him, or maybe he had failed some sort of a test they had set up for him. The best he could count for was that they would decide they needed what he knew about the Infinite Empire, and then they might see some other use for him.

  

* * *

 

 

Daegen Lok was not an artist, having never bothered with practicing how to draw long enough to get anywhere past doodling weird shapes out of boredom. As such, his likeness of the creatures from his vision was fairly crude—not that they were anything but grotesque with the oddly shaped heads and eyes on stalks that protruded from the sides as if slapped on as an afterthought.

Frankly, he was starting to suspect that they had turned to conquest and doing horrible things with the Force out of sheer spite. Or the Force made them look like idiots in self-defence.

His idle musing ground to a halt when the survivor of the crash was led into the room. It wasn't that he was an imposing figure—he was of average height and more wiry than muscular. Not bad looking, though the frown and the way he kept looking down did a quite good job of making that hard to judge. What really drew the attention were the eyes—they were a rather startling pale blue. The dark eyelashes and the pale purple tattoo made them stand out even more, then they would have in the contrast with his tan skin.

But what made Daegen pay attention was how Xesh felt in the Force—despair, fear and hostility all frozen into something dark, overpowering and entirely wrong. How anyone could keep sustaining that was something Daegen didn't even want to consider.

“We have further questions for you,” Ketu said with an expression of polite disinterest on his face. Frankly, Daegen thought the show wasted on the boy, but perhaps as the Master of Temples had some greater insight Daegen's feeble, sun-baked mind could not grasp. He doubted it was the case, but the possibility, as slim as it was, was there. “Will you answer them?”

Xesh didn't answer right away. He glanced around the room and in that moment, he really seemed more like a trapped animal than a sentient being.

“Yes,” he finally said tersely, just as Daegan was starting to consider voicing his impatience.

That... was looking too easy. Daegen still sensed hostility from the boy—he didn't feel like someone willing to cooperate. Perhaps fear accounted for his willingness. It looked like the most logical answer.

“How soon can we expect an invasion?” Ketu asked. Normally, he would have leaned forward then, but now he kept his posture fixed. Rajivari, on the other hand, had leaned over his arm. The boy’s eyes darted towards him for a moment, before he focused his attention back on Ketu.

Again, he took a moment to answer, but this time he obviously was considering what to answer instead if he should say anything at all. “My master's superiors will need to decide he and his vessel are lost in action. Then, they will likely send a second one to investigate—and then, they will send a fleet.” He hesitated, and then added, “Unless there is something that would make them decide to forgo caution.” Another pause. “I don't know how long your standard days are, so I can't tell you exactly how long it will take right now, but it will probably several months, at least.”

“How many ships is a fleet? How many soldiers will there be?” Ketu continued.

“That depends on what the next scout will report, if they send one,” Xesh said. “Assuming they’re going in blind and they want to keep most of the population alive, there will at least be a capital ship with escorts and somewhere around twenty troop transports – those usually have ten thousand troops on board.” He frowned. “They will likely pick officers who have Force hounds, since you have so many Force sensitives here, so there’d be from twenty to sixty of them. Not all of them would be deployed though, because most masters would keep at least one around themselves in case someone wants to use that they’re without a bodyguard.”

“So, those… force hounds are bodyguards? Specialist troops which double as bodyguards?” the older twi’lek woman—Kora—asked, rubbing her lekku.

“Force sensitive slaves trained to seek out and fight other Force sensitives and act as bodyguards, sometimes assassins,” the boy replied.

“You’re one, aren’t you?” Daegen guessed.

The boy nodded. Well, that made things all the more entertaining, didn’t it? They had a child assassin-cum-bodyguard on their hands. Who, under normal circumstances would have been supposed to kill them.

“And how many other troops will be Force sensitive?” Rajivari asked. He kept watching the boy like a hungry manka cat might watch its prey.

“Only the Rakata,” Xesh answered. He took a few steps away from the old man, watching him like something that might spring at any moment and tear his throat out.

“What of the scout—do you know who this Empire will send?” Lha-Mi asked and the boy’s attention snapped to him.

Xesh shook his head.

“Will they be Force sensitive? A… Force hound, was it? A slave, a free person?” Lha-Mi continued, some irritation creeping into his voice.

“Force sensitive,” Xesh said. He took a step back, and tensed visibly. “Likely one of the masters with several attending slaves. Maybe with a Force Hound, if they think they can risk losing one. Maybe someone who angered their superior.”

“Those masters of yours,” Daergen said, “are they of one species?”

“Yes,” Xesh answered. He turned towards Daegen then— although his gaze stopped at Shae for a moment, before returning to Daegen’s feet.

“Do they look like this?” he asked, holding up his sketch.

The boy took a few steps closer and examined it for a moment. Finally, he nodded. Well, at least he was polite enough not to comment on the quality.

“You're not very talkative, are you?” Daegen commented dryly.

It earned him a confused look—or well, his chin seemed to be the target. Then, Xesh said, “No,” in a tone that was very clear a 'I'm trying very hard not to ask the crazy person why they are asking irrelevant stupid questions.' Charming creature, really.

“Not very polite either, are you?” Daegen continued. Beside him, Quan-Jang slid his hand over his face, but since he was making no comments to restrain Daegen, clearly there was no reason to stop.

It actually appeared to worry the boy and that meant maybe Daegen would get closer to finding out what motivated him to decide to help them so quickly.

“Look me in the eye when talking with me,” he said.

The boy looked up obediently enough, looking as confused as he had when Daegen had commented on how little he had talked.

“That’s better,” Daegen said. “Now about those masters of yours, do they use the Force like you do?”

“Mostly yes,” the boy answered. Daegen sensed him grow more nervous—but then it was reaching a point where a blind, deaf, comatose vegetable after a lobotomy would have been able to sense that. He glanced to the side towards the Master of Arts, who had shifted in his seat.

“Eye contact,” Daegen sighed heavily.

The boy looked back to him, now even more tense, almost like he was about to run.

“Far am I from spoiling your fun, Master Lok, but perhaps you could stop bullying him over nothing?” Shae Koda asked and actually moved between Daegen and Xesh. “You're just being a jerk pointlessly.”

“Ah, so my master took you as an apprentice because you keep adopting dangerous strays just like him?” Daegen asked, quite put out at having his attempt at goading the boy into showing something of himself thwarted-

Except—yes, that there was definitely was a look of awe, with a definite possibility of swooning. Although, perhaps swooning was not the right word. Still, it did tell Daegen something about the boy, alright. Namely, that he was barely adult.

“That's enough,” Quan-Jang said. “Both of you, behave.”

By then, Daegen had thought better of what he saw, though. Clearly, Xesh was unused to anyone standing up for him given the strong reaction. And little Shae Koda did that in all her youthful earnestness. Really, young people were sometimes amazingly predictable. And that was something they could use.

He retreated obediently, and once he was seated again, Shae moved back to her spot behind Quan-Jang. Sadly, the boy managed to contain himself and did not provide Daegen with any further means of amusing himself.

Well, he'd wait, listen and watch—there were many other things they needed to ask.

  

* * *

 

 

The warm brown liquid smelled pleasant, but that clearly had been camouflage, since the first sip he took was bitter and absolutely vile. He took another sip just to be sure he hadn't imagined the horrible taste, but no.

It was betrayal in liquid form, as far he was concerned. Something this disgusting had no business smelling like that.

Still, it was liquid, everyone else was drinking it and he'd been talking a lot. Just because it was horrible, it didn't mean he should refuse it and go without anything to drink for however long they would think he needed to understand his mistake. Or make them realize that since they asked him all the questions he could answer (and some he couldn't, and several which just made no sense) he was essentially useless to them.

It had been stupid of him, really. He should have—well, what exactly? Bargained? He was their prisoner, and even if so far, they had done nothing to him it didn't mean they would tolerate him forgetting what he was.

“We have other questions for you,” their leader said. It was odd thinking of a human like this. Still, the others deferred to him visibly and he could sense respect for him from almost all of them, even if he was neither the eldest nor the strongest in their group. He was about the same height as Xesh—somewhat bulkier. His skin was not as dark as he’d seen on some humans, more like some kinds of reddish clay in colour.

The statement was not one he had expected, given that he was fairly sure he told them all he could about the Infinite Empire and what to expect of an invasion from them. What else would he know of interest for them?

“How were you trained in the Force?” the man asked, and this time Xesh managed to sense curiosity from him. It was the first time he picked up anything else than eerie tranquillity from him.

“My master taught me,” Xesh answered. It had been training? Not pleasant in any way, but he had survived it. He balled his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms. “I fought others.”

That... clearly was not the answer they wanted, but he couldn't think of- No that wasn't true. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to remember it at all. It would have been nice if that had been the memories he’d lost in the crash, but the universe definitely didn’t see any reason to become accommodating to him now.

“Do you remember using the Force differently?” the old horned woman asked.

He nearly said no but stopped himself. That was not true. It had just been long ago, before some of the things had happened he'd rather not think about at all, and especially not in front of a Force sensitive audience, who could sense his weakness. Not when all ways of escape were cut off.

Still. They'd know if he lied. He swallowed and tried to fight back the memory of when he’d learned just what exactly it took to survive. His voice was breaking now. “Yes. As a child.”

“And why did you stop? Was it something your master taught you?” one of the other humans asked—the brown-haired one that had been trying to goad him before.

“I didn't want to die,” he said, and tried not to think what that meant—not even the pain, but the sense of inevitable death, life slipping away, other lives winking out around him-

  

* * *

 

  

The glass in the windows cracked and then blew outwards, shards splintering in the air even more. The window frames held, though they buckled—and the door to the chamber bent first and then slammed into the wall opposite to it. It happened in mere seconds.

Lha-Mi was first to act. He covered the distance between Xesh and himself in one jump, hand shooting out with snake-like speed to knock the young man out. Shae probably could have told him this was a bad idea, had this been a situation where you can tell someone that.

Xesh dove under Lha-Mi’s punch and slammed his fist into the Talid's elbow, knocking the hit away. He grabbed hold of the Talid's arm and threw him over his shoulder. Lha-Mi landed on his feet fluidly and shifted to protect his right arm.

Xesh moved to a crouch, his breathing coming in short panicked gasps. It seemed like he was mostly operating on instinct, his attention focused on the person who had just tried to attack him. Shae moved slowly to the front, making sure not to make any sudden movements that would catch his attention. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do yet, but someone needed to do something that wouldn’t escalate the situation further.

And then, Daegen Lok rose and said, “Sleep.”

Shae felt the suggestion in the Force—a whisper at the edge of hearing. It... wouldn't work, she could tell that too—it was too subtle, one pebble where a boulder was needed. It wouldn’t even begin to pierce the panic and the pain, let alone influence Xesh in any way.

“Sleep,” Master Ketu repeated.

“Sleep,” Master Kora said making a small gesture with her blue hand.

Xesh stumbled, the waves of panic dying down around him and bleeding into confusion.

“ _Sleep._ ” Master Ruhr's will joined the others.

Xesh dropped to the floor.

“That was not exactly the outcome I expected,” Daegen Lok said, sitting back down.

“Why would anyone do that to another person?” Shae asked, and shuddered. Not that she had an exact idea what 'that'  was, but the wave of panic and pain had been enough to tell her it was horrible.

“ _That_ is a very good question,” Quan-Jang said inclining his bald head towards her. “Among others we should ask. Unfortunately, I don't think asking our only source of information them would be wise. Unless there are some rooms that need redecorating?”

“I'm sure we can find some,” Daegen Lok said with a sardonic smile.

“There are easier ways to do it, though, aren't there?” Shae asked, deciding to curb the situation in the bud. “Like letting a rancor brood in it.”

Master Ketu cleared his throat. “This is not the time.” He looked at Xesh, his expression turning pensive. The young man had curled up into a defensive ball—even asleep he didn’t really look at peace. “We should decide what to do with him.”

“Isn't it obvious?” Master Rajivari said in a matter-of-fact tone. “We should study his connection to the Force. More like him will come, and we will need to counter them.”

_“It's too dangerous,_ ” Master Ruhr countered. He gestured around himself to emphasise the point. “ _We need to isolate him._ ”

“There is an invasion coming,” Daegen Lok snapped. “Master Rajivari is right—as callous as it sounds. We cannot throw away a potential asset. Let the boy serve a purpose instead of discarding him like a broken tool.”

Shae grit her teeth, but held her tongue. Master Quan-Jang had placed his hand on her arm in a gesture that was both placating and warning.

“He is not a tool,” Master Naro said, taking voice for the first time. “He's a person, and we should treat him as such.”

“He's a threat,” Lha-Mi growled as he rubbed his elbow. “Look at this—his first instinct to something that upsets him is to lash out.” He was rubbing his elbow with a wince.

“He was upset the whole time, Lha-Mi,” Master Madog said. “That went quite beyond upset.” He looked at the windows. “That said, I agree with Master Ruhr. We should isolate him—for our safety as much as his.”

“Isolate him how?” Sek'nos's grandmother asked, half-rising from her chair. “Shall we lock him in a cell somewhere and keep him there?”

The Council was breaking up into yelling once more, the Temple Masters and Daegen Lok all shouting arguments at one another. Only Master Ketu remained silent, his eyes hooded and his expression unreadable.

“Perhaps we should decide on a compromise,” he finally said, when the shouting reached a lull. “We will keep him in a secure location, and observe. If it seems that his... condition is reversible, then we can think of allowing him more freedom. If not, then we isolate him further so that he is no danger. And in the meantime, we learn what we can of the darkness in the Force and how to weaken it.”

The silence that settled was heavy, and there was a palpable sense of relief when Master Madog broke it. “How would you 'reverse' his condition?”

“It's caused by a traumatic event it seems,” Master Calleh said as she stroked her barbels. “Logically, helping him move past it, might do the trick.”

“That will not be easy,” Master Naro pointed out to his wife. He placed a webbed pale purple hand on her smaller teal one. “It might not even be possible at all.”

This time Shae didn't let herself be held back and snapped, “Well, does that mean we should give up straight away, without even trying?”

“That is not what Naro meant,” Quan-Jang chided.

“I think what dear Shae meant is that she is volunteering to help,” Daegen Lok said with the kind of superior amused smirk that ought to be treated as irrefutable grounds for punching someone in the teeth. Unfortunately, it was not. Plus, punching didn't usually solve the underlying problem. Like someone being a smug asshole convinced they were the smartest person in the room.

Not to mention, he kind of was right. She did want to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the changes from the comic are:  
> \- I tried to give the council more varied builds, and make the humans less uniformly white.  
> \- Daegen doesn’t recognize Jake Fenn because they never met and the news-service in the Silent Desert is kind of crappy outside of Qigong Kesh.


	4. Where Everything Is Confusing

He woke up dizzy and disoriented. Bits and pieces of dreams still clung to his mind, ghosts and wraiths made of half-forgotten things. His… sister? He wasn’t sure anymore, but he thought it was a sister that he remembered holding the Force Hound back, who kept dying over and over again in his dreams. Things he had no use for, which ought to stay buried and forgotten.

Slowly, he peeled away a blanket and sat up, taking in the unfamiliar room. The walls were white and the floor had been made from some sort of wood. There were two doors—a massive durasteel one, locked shut, and another wooden one that was half-open and seemed to be leading to a bathroom. To the left of it, there was a small table and a chair, both also made of wood—darker than the floor—and to the right, a cupboard.

They must have brought him here, after-

It only came back to him slowly, like a creeping coldness—he should be dead. This time, definitely, he should be dead. He had demonstrated oh so very clearly he was a threat. After having admitting that he would be hunting the very people who had him now in their power.

He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

It happened from time to time. People snapped. People who should know better, who could have survived so much longer if they remembered to be smart, not to stand out, not to fight back against those in power.

They lashed out, and changed nothing.

And then they died.

He... kind of always thought they had more of an idea of what the hell they were doing or why, though. That it wasn’t just a moment of blind panic like they were still a child and-

He punched the wall.

Pain jolted up to his elbow, sharp and bringing some clarity. Mostly, that his hand hurt, but that was a distraction and he needed to stop thinking about all of this.

He slowly uncurled his fingers. It hurt, but not bad enough to mean broken bones.

One deep breath. Then another.

He was still alive. That was something. It meant they still had some use for him. He had no idea what it might be, but it meant he was going to live a while longer.

  

* * *

 

 

Once he had taken stock of the room—just in case there was some convenient way of escaping from it, after all—Xesh had taken a shower in the hopes of clearing his head more. And washing sweat off, which at least was almost sure to be successful.

He also took a fresh change of clothes from the cupboard, given that he had slept in the one he had been given before the second interrogation. It was practically the same as the first one—a sort of wrap-tunic with a belt and a pair of pants, all made from undyed fabric. Wearing something so pale and light after all the years of being armoured in black and dark grey was its own share of odd.

At one point, he had heard the door open and a metallic clicking. Then the door hissed closed again, and once he went out to check he found out that someone or possibly something had left food for him—still much better than what he'd normally get to eat. There was some sort of clear broth, and some vegetables mixed with meat, and a piece of fruit. None of it seemed to be the kind of processed protein paste that most slaves in the Empire ate.

That probably meant they really still didn't intend to kill him. Otherwise, they just wouldn’t have bothered. Not that he was complaining, but not being to guess what they might still want from him was making him uneasy. He was going to be unprepared when whatever unpleasantness that was awaiting him, finally showed up.

And he couldn’t really even hide any of the food for later, in case this was supposed to be his only meal for the day.

He sensed a familiar presence in the Force, and a moment later the door slid open, admitting the white-skinned woman from the canyon. Her hair was still made into small braids, but they were now tied back so they weren't framing her face anymore. Her clothes were similarly cut to the ones he had been given, but dark grey with a green trim.

Xesh got up as soon as she was inside, still holding onto the fruit he'd been eating.

“Hi?” she said, surprised. She was studying him, green eyes focused on his face. He looked away as soon as he realized that. “You can sit down. And finish eating.”

She gave him a rather odd look, when he did the latter. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to mean or what exactly he was sensing from her. Or why it mattered to him, given that there was no indication she was going to attack.

It did though.

“So... uh, feeling better?” she asked.

The question caught him wrong-footed. She could see he was not panicking, so why ask?

“Yes?” he said after a moment. He had no reason to claim otherwise—he was healthy and had just eaten. He glanced at her again then.

“Great,” she said and smiled at him. That made his breath catch—partially out of surprise, but mostly because of whatever it was that had been going on in his head when she stepped between him and the man with the beard—the one who had asked him the questions that made least sense. He still couldn’t- he didn’t want to think of what the feeling was. “Anyway, I'm Shae Koda. You can just call me Shae. And you're Xesh, right?”

He nodded. Now he was picking up emotions from her—she was… worried about something?

“Look, before we go on—if I ask something that upsets you, tell me, okay? Then I'll stop,” she continued.

And the world was back to not making sense. Unless she thought that he always lacked control like during the interrogation and was worried he’d lash out. “I’m not going to panic like that again.”

“That's not what I meant,” she said and took a step closer. He backed away almost without thinking and bumped into the table behind him. “Right—so you'd rather I didn't come to close?”

That might have been the case, but he hesitated before answering nonetheless. She'd know if he'd lie, but he didn't want to expose any more weakness than he already did. Eventually, he settled for something that was not exactly true, but not a lie either. “It's fine. It's just reflex.”

For a moment, it looked like she'd challenge him, but then she just shook her head. “If you say so.” She didn't appear to be convinced, but before he could add anything, she said, “Anyway, I thought you're going to be bored here. I brought some things for you to read,” she said as she handed him a datapad, “and cards. Did you ever play any card games?”

She held up a small box with a figure in red robe painted on it.

“No,” he said. It still mostly seemed utterly bizarre that she’d care at all if he was bored or not, let alone try to find something to do with him. He just couldn’t think of how that would benefit her or anyone else.  

“I guess I'll have to teach you some, then,” she said and sat down cross-legged on the floor. He followed suit after a moment, while she took out a number of slim plastic rectangles. All of them had something painted on—symbols mostly, but a few had figures on them. She spread them out on the floor between them. “So. Each card has a value. It corresponds with the number of symbols on the card—the figures all count as a ten.” She pointed to the cards with only one symbol. “The aces—these ones—count as eleven points. Each of us gets two cards, and then you can take more. The person who gets the highest number without going over twenty one wins. Anyone who gets exactly twenty one, wins automatically.”

It seemed rather uncomplicated. Well, aside from the one being an eleven, but since nothing else made sense, he decided to just not think about it too much. Given his abysmal track record with having any sort of conversations lately, he was quite sure he’d end up blurting something insulting, like asking her why she bothered and that’d be the end of having any sort of company.

He watched her gather the cards and mix them with fluid practiced motions. Then, she placed two cards in front of each of them, with the side that didn't show values.

“Pick them up, but don't show me what you have. You only show them once we're checking who-” She stopped the explanation and stared at his hand. “What happened?”

He looked at it too, but there was nothing wrong with it—the scars were all where they had been before. The knuckles were red and somewhat swollen, but he had punched the wall pretty hard. It wasn't abnormal either. There simply was nothing that would give her any reason to sound so alarmed. 

“Your hand,” she said eventually.

“I hit the wall,” he said. It earned him a look of disbelief mixed with... something else.

“Were you- Don't do that again, okay?” she said, and reached out as if intending to grab him. He managed not to move away, but she stopped anyway. For a moment, her hand was outstretched, and then she let it fall again. “Do you want some ice for that? It must hurt.”

“I had worse,” he said quickly. “It won't interfere with anything.”

That had to be it, hadn't it? But he was holding the cards perfectly fine—she could see that. He really couldn't think of why else it would bother her so much, though.

“If you say so,” she said eventually, but didn't sound at all convinced.

  

* * *

 

 

Shae wanted to ask a number of things, but she could sense—and see—that it would be counterproductive. He was already getting more nervous after just a few questions, and she doubted asking more would get them anywhere useful. Not yet, anyway 

She told herself to be patient, letting the frustration sink back and become something useful. It wasn’t easy, since whenever she looked at how badly bruised his hand was it made her want to wince in sympathy. Why would anyone hurt themselves so badly?

But her concern only seemed to be met with confusion, like it was something that either didn’t apply to him or was completely new. So, she played.

The first two games were slow, as Xesh became more familiar with the game. By the third one, he seemed to catch on, and then it went much faster. He even seemed to relax somewhat—he was still tracking her every movement, but that seemed to be more out of habit then actual mistrust.

“So, how do you like this?” she asked. For now, she figured she needed to stick to neutral subjects.

“It's easy,” he said. Apparently, preferences either weren’t neutral, or he really sucked at having any sort of conversation.

“And that's good or bad?” she asked and smiled trying to only project reassurance and encouragement. “Come on, I won't bite—if you don't like it, I'll teach you something else.”

He still hesitated and she hadn't even expected him to try to make eye contact. “I like it.” Then, after a moment, he added, “Not because it's easy.”

“So, why?” Shae asked. Well, they were getting somewhere now. She wasn't sure where, but it was actually starting to look like a conversation and not an exercise of luring something very shy which had hidden inside its shell.

“It makes sense,” he said, after another pause.

There was the implication that things here did not make sense. Perhaps unintentional, but now Shae thought she was starting to understand why he preferred not to give a straight answer. Which meant that she probably shouldn't ask him what didn't make sense, least they were to go back to creatures hiding in their shells.

“Card games tend to,” she said instead. “They can be complicated, but if the rules are stupid, why would anyone play?”

“Because they want to make the other person feel confused or like watching them get more and more annoyed,” Xesh answered.

Apparently, aside from coming from a some horrible place, he also had not been taught to recognize rhetorical questions.

“How charming,” she said dryly. “I'll make sure not to play with anyone like that.”

“You might not have a choice,” he replied.

Well, wasn't that a lovely thought. She tried not to make a face, but it wasn't easy. She’d have said it was one of the most awkward conversations in her life, except that didn't account for the added fun of finding out little gems like this.

“What do you do here?” he asked, just when the silence was starting get really heavy.

That... was something. In fact it was a something she had not expected, but hey, at least he did know how to change the subject and how to recognize when a change of subject was needed.

“I study the Force and biology—well, genetics really,” she said, before elaborating on the subject of animals. He knew what the Force was, so it's not like that was going to be terribly interesting, but everyone thought big scaly things with lots of teeth were cool, right?

  

* * *

 

 

There were several themes there—one was dangerous animals which sane people stayed away from. The second one was the fact that dangerous animals tended to mind being studied, or confuse people studying them with food on a regular basis.

It sounded sort of nice, despite that. Not the nearly being eaten or maimed or killed parts, since those he knew from experience were definitely to be avoided at all costs. But the part about doing something one liked, and not because there was no other choice. Or actually having a clear idea of what one liked doing, for the matter.

And then, there was the whole confusing mess that came with knowing that something might want to eat her—he wanted to ask her if he could come with her and make sure it didn't happen, but... that would be insulting. She had been doing that long before he showed up and was definitely uneaten.

And he was a prisoner, which, even in places that made no sense, generally didn't appear to involve being given a weapon and wandering about. So that was not only confusing, but also kind of stupid, and yet despite that the feeling didn’t want to go away.

“How long have I been talking?” she asked suddenly. Obviously, she didn't expect an answer for that, since she got up almost immediately. “Damn, I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow.”

And then, she was out in a run, the cards forgotten on the floor.

The door clicked closed, and he was alone again. For a moment, he sat still, and then he picked up her cards. He turned them over in his fingers, thinking.

It... wasn't so bad. If she was going to come back. All of that had been strange and unfamiliar, but it was like she actually thought he was worth spending time with just for the sake of it.

 

* * *

 

 

The Temple of Science was not just the enormous structure straddling the Chasm—the surrounding smaller buildings and pens were also part of it. Not all kinds of research could be conducted in enclosed spaces, and creating habitats within one was wasteful, when one already had a natural one outside. 

One such facility was currently being used by Quan-Jang and his apprentices as an impromptu meeting place. The Master of Science watched with some amusement as his former apprentice pretended to ignore a large lizard that put its muzzle on his lap and was attempting to give him a pleading look, unhampered by the fact that its species was naturally inclined to looking perpetually angry.

Unlike Quan himself, or Shae, Daegen's interests and skills were focused on sentient minds rather than studying life. And possibly crossbreeding to find out how to get something that had sharp teeth, horns and could spit interesting things.

Shae sat down opposite to them, using another—much larger lizard—as her seat. It gave her bleary look and resumed napping, quite used to being treated in such a way.

“I'm not sure all of this is necessary,” she said. “I played cards and talked about... uh... stuff.”

“Even if I could overhear you through the wall, I most definitely would not care about 'uh stuff',” Daegen said as he resigned himself to placing the smaller lizard on his lap and rubbing the soft scales on its belly. It gave a content sigh. “If we are to achieve something, we need to observe him. You will do so directly, and I will focus on the Force. And, if it's necessary, I will be there to help you subdue the boy.”

Shae was starting to look combative, so Quan decided to step in. As amusing as his apprentices would be when trying to out-sarcasm one another, it would be counterproductive.

“I, on the other hand, would want to know what you talked about,” he said. “If nothing else, we can advise you for the future.”

Shae shrugged. “He punched the wall for some reason before I came, but since it didn't seem like he'd explain why, I didn't ask. Then we talked about cards, and um... he asked me what I did. So I told him about some of the more fun species. Well, a lot about it really, since I kind of don't think talking about meditating would be all that interesting.”

“Interesting or not, you should teach the boy how to do it,” Daegen countered. “Even if that master of his taught him, I doubt he did it right.”

“Why not you? You're an ancient venerable master person,” Shae shot back.

“I'm an ancient venerable master person who bullied him when he had an occasion, while you are the nice girl who stood up for him,” Daegen replied bluntly. “He'll trust you, but not me. Hence, why you're going to teach him, is it not, Master Quan-Jang?”

Quan stretched his legs out in front of himself, as he shifted to sit in a more comfortable position.

“I would not use this argument,” he said. “But for now, we are going to limit the amount of people who will interact with Xesh. There might be other candidates, but they will need to earn the little trust you already have, so having you start with the basics will simply be most expedient.”

Shae seemed to accept this. Then again, she was mostly reasonable and did not indulge in disputing for its own sake. “And Master Lok is an acquired taste?”

“So are you,” Daegen answered. “And so is Master Quan-Jang. This is why _everyone_ wants all of us to attend social occasions together. The fun is endless.”

“Be nice, children,” Quan said. “Save the sniping for others. We have a reputation to maintain.”

Since some things were nearly automatic if ingrained at an early age, both Shae and Daegen said—in nearly perfect sync, too, “Yes, master Quan.”

  

* * *

 

 

Xesh was still unsure what the Tythonians intended for him, but at least it didn’t seem like they would be killing him or hurting him in the near future. Still, he didn’t know for sure how long their good will would last. It was better not to jeopardize it too much—so when Shae had explained how they meditated and asked him to try, he made no objections.

Well, no, that was not entirely true. The idea of being at peace, of putting fear aside, did sound nice. And he wanted to her to come back again—what if she was offended if he disagreed?

So, dutifully, he tried doing just as she explained.

Meditating was both easier and harder than he thought it would be. Xesh sat cross-legged on the floor, and closed his eyes. First, came trying to feel his body, which was actually not as stupid as it had initially sounded. Then, breathing: just noticing it was happening, until his mind started wandering. That part was actually pleasant. Relaxing. And once he reached this point, he could move to the next part.

Sensing others was uncomplicated enough—it was something he would do when accompanying his former master anyway. Looking for potential danger, hostility or even a spark of Force sensitivity where there should be none.

The rakata could not do this on their own.

He opened his eyes and looked at the wall, not really seeing it at all, as he realized just what he had thought a moment ago. Why? It seemed an obvious question. Why couldn't they?

Everyone was connected through the Force. Everything. To sense others, all you had to do was open yourself to the Force and feel. It was one of the fundamental skills. Something you mastered early on and moved on to more complicated things. Like meditating, it turned out.

Which he was supposed to be doing, instead of getting side-tracked by questions without answers, he told himself.

He closed his eyes again, and tried to go against years of habit—to just feel everything, instead of trying to sense thoughts of violence, the intent to kill. There was surprisingly little of those in this place, anyway. It ought to have made things easier, but instead he kept focusing on some animal on the hunt, most of the time.

Or the Empire. It was out there, like an oil-spill in the ocean, suffocating all that was within.

He hadn't really noticed that earlier either. Maybe it was because he was outside of it now? He only noticed how terrible it felt once he wasn't in it anymore and could sense something different. It seemed like a logical explanation, at least.

But he was reaching out too far again, focusing on one thing instead of sensing all that was around him.

He breathed out slowly and tried one more time. First, just the room he was in—the faint echoes of his own emotions and those of Shae's presence. Then, further out—alien minds that felt like tranquil pools instead of storms or fire.

It was as far as he got though. His attention slipped, as soon as he felt a flare of irritation. Normally, he'd have barely registered it, but it stood out so very starkly during the brief moment it lasted against all those calm minds, it broke his concentration.

Old instincts kicked in and he tensed, ready to lash out.

He opened his eyes and let out a growl of frustration. It just wouldn't work, no matter how much he tried.

Still. At least, he had something to do. After all, he had nothing better to do than practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time around, I don't think there are any changes that aren't a result of what has already happened. However, if you noticed something that you'd like to explain, I'll gladly answer any questions in comments or on tumblr - just look for bloodilymerry.


	5. Where Energy Swords Which Go Vroom Are the Coolest Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is confused which temple is which (and I won't blame you, if you are), look at the notes at the end of the chapter.

Kaleth was somewhat confusingly both the name of the vast plateau and the temple located on it. It towered over the green fields and the forests—four massive buildings: each devoted to one major discipline.

The archives sprawled all over the lowest levels with vast libraries of paper books and beneath them, data rooms with serves that were kept cool by mammoth machines endlessly pumping coolant and water. Study rooms were spread around the whole area, with work stations that were occupied for most of the day.

Kora was inspecting the catalogue and making notes of titles that appeared as if they may be relevant to her current research. She had not been a Temple Master for long. It was only the third year, and while the novelty had worn off long ago by then, she still sometimes felt wrong-footed and uneasy. And now, the first true Council that she had attended to, one with all the members, turned out to be a prelude to war.

Not to mention, that had been probably the least disturbing thing they had found out from the survivor. She had offered to take him in, but Calleh and Naro backed Quan-Jang’s apprentice as their current best option to help the young man.

So there she was in the archives and searching for any relevant data. There had been mentions of a “shadow in the Force”, or “darkness” or “oil-spill”, or “sickness” in sources dating back to the times before all the temples had been finished. The exact words varied, depending on the species and profession of the source, but they were almost always related to something that would cause fear and obscure visibility.

It seemed that the lack of visibility effect was not caused by a single person, as far as she could tell. Or perhaps it was an individual talent specific to the rakata, and one that humans trained in their ways of the Force simply didn’t possess?

But perhaps there was something she could start with. At least a few of the sources had mentioned the region of the galaxy where they had sensed what they knew was the Infinite Empire. And that meant it might be possible to chart the rate of growth of the Empire.

That in turn would give them an answer: Was the Infinite Empire at its apex, or was its growth slowing—or speeding up?

 

* * *

 

 

The air smelled of metal in Vur Tepe, even in the demonstration and testing areas away from the forges and manufactories and despite the complex air-scrubbing mechanisms spread all over it. It also seemed to be slightly hotter than it should be, but that might just have been Sek’nos’s imagination—his mind convincing his body because of a connection it had made between the purpose of the Forge and what he knew of forges.

And he wasn’t in one of them, after all. The test room was mostly empty, with mats on the floor and a few tables by the wall. A cluster of apprentices had formed near them—Sek’nos could recognize Tasha and a few others. Master Tem Madog was pacing across the length of the mat on which Sek’nos was standing, while the large togruta tested the balance and weight of the light-sword. He swung the weapon experimentally. It moved differently than a metal sword, and the low buzzing it kept emitting changed pitch. Regardless, it was still setting his teeth on edge.

“We're going to have to start building these en masse,” Master Madog said and tossed a ball at the young togruta.

He sliced cleanly through it, and it smoked as it fell to the ground in singed halves.

Sek'nos inspected it with his foot, letting the cathar master talk with the other smith—a stout devronian woman by the name of Sanya.

“The design appears to be almost uncannily similar,” she said, gesticulating with the energy blade taken from the crash survivor. Just like the weapon made by Master Madog, in its deactivated state, the weapon was a slender rod, although longer than the one that was practically disappearing in Sek'nos's hand. In contrast, the one the survivor had carried could easily have doubled as a baton.

“Yes,” the cathar said. “I think I might steal a few solutions—but in essence, this is a weapon that any Force sensitive can assemble, if they have the right focus crystal.”

“And make us obsolete, Master?” Sanya asked.

“We do not primarily craft weapons,” Master Madog chided in a tone that made Sek'nos think of his grandmother at her most long-suffering. “How does it handle?”

“Wonderful, except for that weird whine,” Sek'nos answers truthfully. “Although it gets easier to tune it out the longer I'm holding it.”

“How about a practice fight then?” Master Madog asked, and without waiting bellowed towards a cluster of apprentices of all genders. “Volunteer, now!”

There was a brief commotion, before a slender orange twi'lek emerged from the group followed by a few disappointed looks. Sek'nos grinned at her, and she grinned back.

Sanya offered her the other energy blade, and they took positions opposite to one another. The blades buzzed to life—a yellow one in Sek'nos's hand and the blue one that technically belonged to the survivor.

The young togruta let the twi'lek take a few practice swings to get the feel of the weapon, before starting their duel. The blades sparked whenever they met, and both of them moved with much more caution then they would have with a metal blade, simply because of the sheer unfamiliarity of the weapons.

Yet for all the newness, there was a sort of a resonance between him and the blade, one that he had never reached when holding a metal sword. It was almost as if the crystal within was responding to him in the Force, making it easier to predict how his opponent would move and how to best parry her strikes.

“Enough!” Master Madog bellowed, and both Sek'nos and his opponent jumped back.

“They were catching on much quicker than I expected,” Sanya said.

The cathar bared his teeth in a wide grin. “Then we move on to the next part of the experiment. You lot will each get yourself a crystal and build a blade like that.”

 

* * *

  

Getting himself a crystal was not nearly as easy as master Madog had made it sound. They had been all pointed in the direction of the right cave, and given appropriate information. Which boiled down to a crash course on spelunking for dummies and ‘you will know which crystal is yours’.

The latter part did turn out to be true, so there was that.

Unfortunately, Sek’nos’s crystal was behind a passage into which he’d absolutely not fit: he’d have to bend to fit height-wise, but he was already too broad, so he’d also have to walk side-ways.

Well, there was more than one way to skin a manka cat. Theoretically. He never had actually tried to verify that because it seemed needlessly cruel, and Shae would skin him. Probably metaphorically, but he was not going to risk that only to test if a stupid saying was true.

Because he was irritated because yet again, he could not fit somewhere. As if ducking under every door hadn’t been enough.

With a sigh, he sat down on the ground. It was somewhat damp—which was why he had made the effort of putting on a shirt—but nothing he wouldn’t be able to survive. He could sense the crystal. It wasn’t as good as seeing it, but it was good enough.

He extended his hand and closed his eyes. He could still hear things— under the right circumstances he could navigate by sound, but the crystal was somewhat too far away for that trick to give him anything but a rudimentary idea of the cave’s layout.

The only thing he could do was to try sense the crystal in the Force as best as he could and then pull it to himself. Carefully at first, until the rock let go, until there was something cool and smooth in his hand.

He opened his eyes and watched the transparent facets catch light.

 

* * *

  

Tasha looked at the assorted metal parts, as she toyed with a blue crystal absentmindedly. She had never been drawn to weapons—be it creating them or wielding them. Yet now, she had no choice. She would need to build one and someday, in the near future, she would have to wield one.

Methodically, she started assembling the weapon, despite the foreboding it filled her with. She was not so naive as to believe weapons could be completely forgone—if anything, they still needed a means of defending themselves from hostile animals. No, it was the fact that they would all have to take one up, whether they liked it or not.

The alternative was being snuffed out like candles. Fear eating them until nothing else was left.

She could not summon the enthusiasm some of the others were showing. Even the grin that she saw on the face of Sek'nos—the one that was normally so infectious—could not bring a smile to her face.

In her memory, the scene from her vision played once more. It had been weeks since she had seen it in her mind’s eye for the first time, but it remained as fresh as it had been then—a ship burning in the atmosphere, the lone escape pod landing roughly in the canyon, and finally a black-clad figure emerging from it.

Would she had reacted differently, had she known what they’d learn? Perhaps, if she had acted sooner, they could have sent a ship and prevented the crash altogether. With both Xesh and his master, they could have learned so much more.

But was it worth learning? Was going to your death prepared so much better than dying unaware? They would have to fight, knowing that if they lost, they'd become like Xesh. Little more than feral creatures lashing out in fear and pain.

She did not envy Shae Koda. As terrible as whatever had been done to Xesh had been, Tasha did not want to have to deal with him. Did not want to be reminded of what was coming.

With a steady hand, blue eyes half-closed, she held out the finished blade and ignited it. It hummed softly, blazing with a cold blue light.

She would fight. After all, what other choice did she have?

  

* * *

 

 

Eille drummed her fingers against her desk. She had been cooped up in her work room for a while now, hidden from the rest of the Temple of Science. Occasionally, she’d hear noise outside as people passed her door by, but mostly she ignored it. She had a task to finish, after all.

The orange spider-like equivalent of a black box sat in front of her, hooked to her own computer. She had it running decryption software ever since Master Quan-Jang had given her the thing, but so far she had found no way to understand the programming or decrypt the thing.

She was fairly sure that part of the problem was that it wasn’t just the programming language that was alien to her—it was meant to respond in a language that was not spoken on Tython. Logically, the survivor of the crash ought to be able to understand it, but it seemed that he wasn’t going to be an option in the nearest future.

So, back to square one. Eille sighed and took a sip of tea from the mug that had been faithfully sitting by her side for hours now. It tasted like drinking cold tar, to be truthful, but she had been letting her tea cool down to undrinkability for years now.

She didn’t want to give up, but there was simply no progress. Unless she had some sort of an epiphany or the Force dropped a book describing the code in her lap, she would have to run decryption software day and night in hopes of stumbling on a solution.

She pushed herself away from her computer and slid off her chair. There was a point where determination became stupid stubbornness and one gained nothing but frustration. It seemed she had reached it.

And yet, she left the decryption software running when she marched out of the room.

  

* * *

 

 

Noortje had been ten when she first had held a blade. It had been a training sword, made of light wood and dulled, so the worse one could get from it were bruises. Later, she had to relearn the balance of a sword, once her teachers trusted her with a metal one.

And while the change to an energy blade came several decades after the last time, she was aware it was perfectly doable. Besides, she had not spent hours in a damp cold cave digging out a crystal only to give up.

She tuned out the others practicing. The training room was a large one, with mats on the floor and weapons on the walls—similar to so many others spread around the Temple of Martial Arts. A group of Pages was training under the watch of another Knight on the other side of the room.

Noortje ignited the blade and started her usual exercise routine, but slower than normally. The blade was so much lighter, and the crystal was almost a part of her. It was almost impossible to resist the urge to test her blade further, but Noortje was not going to hurry things.

The green blade hummed as she swung it in practiced arcs, changing pitch ever so slightly depending on the angle and speed. That would also take getting used to.

And then, just as she was starting to feel really confident someone on the opposite side of the training hall cried out in pain. Noortje whirled around, turning off the blade at the same time to see one of the Pages clutching a stump of an arm. A hand was lying a few steps away.

Well. That was fast, she thought, as she rushed towards the young wookiee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changes so far:  
> \- Given that so far Tython has no Dark Side-users, I decided that making Forcesabers activated by the Dark Side would make the whole thing too complicated. Plus, I'm not sure it'd work with how kyber crystals seem to work in new canon.  
> \- Since I still don't know why Mace's lightsaber is purple, I decided to stick blue, green and yellow for the possible colours for lightsabers.   
> \- Given what I've read in Ahsoka, I'm going to assume that bleeding kyber crystals had not been invented yet. It seems more like a Sith thing than a rakata thing anyway, since it's very much focused on corrupting something which belonged to your enemy and showing your dominance over them that way. So, no one gets a red crystal yet.
> 
> Temples:  
> \- Kaleth = Temple of Knowledge  
> \- Vur Tepe = The Forge


	6. Where Brilliant Ideas Are Had

The room still had an unlived-in quality, despite having been occupied by Xesh for weeks now. It was still mostly bare, but then so far Shae had not managed to find out anything about his preferences, save for the fact that he’d eat anything edible. Which was not exactly helpful when it came to interior decorating.

“Is your name Xesh because you have the letter tattooed on your face, or is it the other way around?” Shae asked. It had been bugging her for some time now, although she had been postponing asking him that. At first, she had told herself it was because it was too early; that it might cause her to lose the trust she had won from him, but in the end she had to admit it was because she had a very strong feeling the answer would be horrible.

“Because it means my master won't have to remember what to call me,” Xesh answered, not taking his eyes off the card tower he'd been assembling.

“He wasn't very inventive, was he?” Shae replied. “Or was he worried he'll run out of room if he names you something longer?”

And then, wonder of wonders, he laughed. It seemed to surprise him as much as it did her, because it lasted only a moment, but Shae counted it as a victory nonetheless.

“It's not a name,” he said, quite effectively killing her satisfaction. “It's a designation. All Force sensitive slaves get a letter assigned and then tattooed somewhere easily visible. I'm not the only Xesh in the Empire. There are far too many. It gets confusing sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Shae asked. “Aurebesh has only thirty-four letters. Wouldn’t it be confusing nearly all the time?”

“Not really. Only when there's more than one slave with the same designation in the room,” Xesh said, carefully levitating another card onto the tower. “My master would just switch to using the colour of the tattoos then. Or a combination.” He glanced at her and added, “You're right. He really wasn't very imaginative.”

Clearly. “So, what is your name?”

She wondered if she was pushing too far, watching his hand hover over the cards.

“I don't remember,” he replied eventually, as he pulled his hand away. She could sense that he was lying now. “I was too small to remember when I was made a slave.”

She could have tried prying then, but that would likely damage the little trust she had won so far. Or maybe it wasn’t even a matter of trusting her specifically, but something else entirely. It felt somewhat like peeling layers of dressing from an infected wound. But in the end, it boiled down to one thing—she would not call him on the lie. Maybe, at some point, he’d feel safe enough to simply tell her he didn’t want to talk about something.

Which left her with the other logical question to ask—and satisfying her own morbid curiosity.

“Is that what this Infinite Empire will do to us?” Shae asked. Somehow, she was yet again sure she’d not like the answer regardless of what it would turn out to be.

“No,” Xesh said quietly. “They wouldn't be able to shape you like they do with children—they'd just use your connection to the Force to power their ships and weapons, until you died.”

Shae opened her mouth to ask another question, but stopped herself. It wasn't as bad as it had been in the Council chamber, but she was sensing an echo of what she had sensed from him moments before he panicked. And then it clicked. _I didn't want to die_ —that was what he had meant when he had said that.

Master Quan-Jang and Daegen Lok would both be very interested in the implications, but that was something she would consider later.

“You can tell me to stop asking about this,” she said instead. “I will listen if you want to talk, but it's your choice.”

He fell silent then, and she could sense that there was something that he was struggling with. Well, given that moments earlier, he seemed to have assumed she wouldn’t take no for an answer, she had to wonder if he would believe her at all.

“Don't let the Rakata take you,” he said, looking up at her. His eyes were such an odd shade for a human—a very pale blue that was closer to what she’d seen in her own species. It didn’t seem unnerving to her, but she’d heard both Master Quan and Daegen Lok say the effect was quite uncanny.

She managed an encouraging smile despite her own unease and his fear. “I don't plan to.”

It was not the best reassurance, but she couldn't think of anything better. It seemed to work, still, since the tension around him ebbed almost visibly.

Ah, no, there was something else she should tell him, wasn't there? “And I won't let them take you back. They won't hurt you again.”

The card tower fell apart, little plastic rectangles scattering over the floor like leaves.

Maybe it was too much. She felt a wave of conflicting emotions from him: fear and shock, and so many other things, it made her almost cry. Xesh made a small strangled noise, and that was when she realized _he_ was crying. Her first instinct was to pull him into a hug, but she knew enough not to try.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

Xesh only shook his head.

“Can I do something to make you feel better?” she continued, moving slightly forward. 

He only shook his head again.

“All right,” Shae said softly. “I’m right here, if you need me.”

  

* * *

 

 

Ketu had always tended towards minimalism, and his meeting room reflected this. Rajivari remembered when it had been his meeting room and how books, notes and trinkets had been scattered over various surfaces. Now, one wall and the nearby floor were all taken up by a planet arrangement. The rest of the room belonged to the worn round table made of pale wood.

They had taken places around it: Daegen Lok slouching like a lazy cat, while Ketu toyed with his cup of tea. Rajivari could tell his former apprentice was considering the news Daegen Lok had brought and what to do with them. In that moment, he truly regretted the Council’s unfortunate decision to remove him. He would not waste time on useless deliberations.

There was more they could learn—that was what mattered. Fear of the unknown should not stop them. Too many times had the others shown themselves to be timid and lacking in vision. He would not accept if yet again fear of dirtying one’s hands would stop them from taking the necessary steps.

“This is conjecture, so far,” Ketu said, frowning, once Daegen Lok had finished recounting what Shae Koda had learned—and what she, her Master and Lok had guessed. “Shaping a child can mean simply bringing them up and instilling one’s beliefs in them—it does not have to mean whatever the Rakata did to Xesh to make him use the Force the way he does. It's a good guess, but we cannot be sure.”

“It might take too long for us to get a confirmation,” Daegen Lok replied, lacing his hands behind his head. “And it seems to add up— take a child who does not know any better, and put it into a situation where it has no other choice but to use the Force like he does. The same will not work with an adult, simply because they know better.”

Ketu shook his head. “It sounds too simple.”

It was something of a failing of his, Rajivari considered. He had never been satisfied with simple solutions. Sometimes, it served him well enough, but there were other times, when his apprentice would refuse to see the truth, because he had not spent hours or days, or months discovering it.

“We are still in danger, even if Daegen is right,” Rajivari pointed out. “It is simply one danger less.”

“And it will not matter, if we die,” Daegen Lok added dryly. “But I think by now we have established that the boy is not contagious. If he is to recover, he should start interacting with more people.”

“He should be taught. Properly,” Rajivari added. It was an opportunity to learn more, after all. As broken as the boy was, no one would be surprised if being apprenticed proved too much—and he would make sure to learn all that he could before that happened. It was regrettable, but the simple, brutal truth was that there would be no other use for the child.

Daegen Lok gave him a sour look, before sighing rather theatrically. “Very well. I will teach him. The boy survived everything that was thrown at him, I'm sure he can live with my comments.”

Rajivari blinked slowly. He had not expected this at all.

He glanced at Ketu, who was wearing a look that many would not recognize for the smugness that it was. Had he just played into his hand? Without even realizing there was some sort of a game going on?

He could protest, of course, but he found himself unwilling to divulge the interest he had. Ketu, for all his intelligence, was compassionate, and while Daegen Lok had no such failings, he was still disinclined to sacrifice others in the name of progress.

There would be other opportunities to learn.

  

* * *

 

 

Daegen Lok had expected no enthusiasm from the boy, who did not disappoint him. Once he made the announcement that he was going to teach him, Xesh refused to meet his eyes and continued frowning. Apparently, being taken on a walk was not enough to earn him any points. Or perhaps the main hall of the Temple of Science was not what the boy considered a sight-seeing spot. To be fair, Anil Kesh was primarily utilitarian, but the hall did have some sort of inspirational mosaic of personifications of sciences descending to enlighten the masses.

On the second thought, Daegen had never been particularly impressed with the mosaic himself. 

“I know how to use the Force,” Xesh said flatly, having finished listening to Daegen’s explanation.

Well, at least they knew where they stood. Not that Daegen had not been aware there was a distinct possibility he would be faced with opposition.

“I am aware of that,” Daegen replied. “You're also doing everything you can do wrong.”

His perfectly reasonable argument was met with an utter lack of understanding, and earned him a glare. Practically a ray of sunshine, that one.

“It works,” Xesh replied stubbornly. Then, a cathar man, who seemed vaguely familiar passed them and gave Xesh measuring look as he did. The boy tensed and tracked him for a moment.

Clearly the obvious arguments were not going to work. Fortunately, Daegen had a well of patience and could spend the whole day arguing. It would not be very productive, of course, but he absolutely could do it. Or, he could be reasonable.

“Am I going to have to bribe you with chocolate like a five-year-old?” he asked. Perhaps the boy was still young enough to want to prove he was absolutely not a child, if treated like one?

The question earned him a spark of interest. “I don't know. What is it and why would I want it?”

Daegen studied the boy in silence for a while, processing it. It had not been the result he had intended. In fact, had this been anyone else, he would have assumed they were not being serious. Instead, he was having a bad feeling about this. Was he having a premonition? It was feeling like one. And here he thought he had avoided some of the troublesome parts of having an apprentice and would not have to worry about such things like bribing with food.

“It's food.”

“And you will give it to me, if I do what you tell me to?” Xesh asked. He sounded both suspicious and hopeful.

Whatever worked, right? “Yes. I will. If you do it right.”

“Fine,” Xesh answered after a moment.

Daegen sighed. Of course, he had managed to get himself an apprentice who had absolutely no dignity. He had thought he knew what he was getting himself into, but clearly he had been mistaken. Still, it probably couldn't get worse than this.

  

* * *

 

 

Vev had had an epiphany between her third and fourth spoon of the canned mystery meat. She would escape. Really, she was practically obliged to do so, given her master's current bout of stupidity. He let her scout ahead. Unsupervised. In a one-person ship.

The mind boggled.

Unfortunately, the epiphany proved to last only until the fifth spoonful, and refused to provide her with an instant solution to her other problems. The ship undoubtedly had tracking mechanisms, which she had no idea how to disable, because nobody was stupid enough to teach a Force Hound how to free themselves.

There was also the matter of where exactly she was going to escape to. She couldn't just pick a location at random and hope for the best. Slowly, she chewed on the ground meat-paste, as she considered her options.

She could probably pick one of the worlds her masters had found uninteresting, but given that the ship could be tracked, that would just mean she'd end up in the middle of nowhere on a world with no population or one that was useless as potential allies.

On the other hand, she could leave the coordinates be. She could sense the world in the Force, bright and blazing. Perhaps, if she crashed the ship and warned the inhabitants, they'd be willing to leave her be.

She froze. It couldn’t be that easy, surely? If it were, why would there be any slaves at all?

She stared for what might be a few minutes or an eternity, shocked at what she had been considering just moments ago.

It couldn't be that easy.

And yet.

She fingered her collarbone, still sore from when she had hit the wall. Her master had been displeased before he sent her away.

The inhabitants of the world she was headed towards might decide to kill her, she thought. True, they were doomed in any case—Predor Tul'kar's ship had a tracker of its own, but still. She could make sure they would have to kill her, if the inhabitants decided that she would be the source of their troubles.

 

Yes. That sounded like a good plan. Offer them a fighting chance and if they turned on her, force them to kill her. It was better than coming back to her master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the obvious change is Vev. I hadn't intended on changing Trill's name initially, but she turned out to be so different from her comic self, she was pretty much a different character. And since her name made me think of the sound mostly, I decided that since I'm already changing so much, I might as well give her a name I like better.


	7. Where Reason Triumphs over Snark, Maybe

He couldn't decide what to think of Daegen Lok. He did actually give him food as promised, and it had been very nice. But he kept on commenting on everything ceaselessly, in a tone that seemed to be an invitation towards violence. He was not going to mention the content, because that wasn’t an invitation—it was begging and nagging for someone to hurt him all rolled up into one.

Except nobody did that, unless there was a catch.

Being taken outside was… well, a change. He was fairly sure the man chose places and times were there would be no crowds deliberately—today they were walking along a corridor that was completely deserted. There was some writing on the walls—there was writing on most walls here, in fact, and locked rooms, but so far not even one person had passed them. Not that he minded—less people meant less potential opponents.

What opponents that would be, he had no idea, but it didn’t change the fact that watching for any potential attacker was a second nature to him.

So, isolated places were a plus, and not sitting in his room was also one.

But there was the learning. He kept feeling like he really ought to tell him it was a stupid idea to teach him how _they_ used the Force, when they ought to be learning how to counter how he was doing that, how the Rakata did it.

Except, they had to know it. So clearly, there was some other reason for all of this, but he had no idea what that might be.

Unless Daegen Lok was just looking for a way of amusing himself and thought that Xesh would provide the amusement.

“You should really stop glaring so much, boy,” the man said, proving yet again to be probably one of the most frustrating people Xesh had ever met. It wasn't like he was doing that consciously. It just happened. “You're actually not bad looking, when you forget to glower.”

Thoughts of frustration made way for utter confusion.

“I take nobody told you this before, then,” Daegen Lok continued, while Xesh tried to think of something to say.

Eventually, he just shook his head. How was that relevant? Surely, if he had wanted an ornamental slave, he wouldn't be teaching him—and they weren't even supposed to have slaves here, as completely bizarre as that sounded.

“Why would it matter to anyone?” he asked.

“People might actually be willing to ignore that you're a small storm cloud of despair and hostility in the Force, and spend time with you,” Daegen Lok answered. “Someone might complain about the standards they are displaying, but then you're not much of a conversationalist, so your best hope is that they're too dumb to notice that too.”

He was being goaded again. That much he could definitely tell.

“You're assuming I want to spend time with anyone,” he replied. Just the idea of having to watch one more person, of trying to guess what they might want, what would set them off was enough to make him want to hide somewhere.

Daegen Lok snorted. “You do, boy. Or shall I tell Shae that you don't want to see her ever again?”

Xesh stopped in mid-step. He couldn't do that, could he? And he just said that he didn’t want any company and meant it—he wouldn't be lying, and what if she believed that? He wanted to protest, but his throat was dry and he couldn't even get a sound out, let alone a sentence.

“I won't do this,” Daegen Lok said. “But don't try that again—you might eventually manage to lie to me, but don't lie to yourself, boy. Humans are social animals. You will not survive alone.” He waved his hand to underscore his point. “So, why do you want to be left alone? Think about it—don't answer me, if you don't want to, but use that brain of yours for something that will help you, instead of plotting murder or whatever it is that goes on in there.”

How exactly was he supposed to lie to himself? It was _his_ thoughts, he couldn’t exactly not think them. And he really found the last comment most annoying of all. He grumbled, “I don't plot murder.”

“Ah, that is good to know,” Daegen Lok replied, sounding utterly unconcerned. Xesh considered pointing out that he actually could kill him, but realized fairly quickly that would be just stupid—he'd prove he _had_ been plotting murder and Daegen Lok, being a horribly frustrating peace of old rotten meat, would fail to be fazed anyway. “So, what does go in your head then?”

He was definitely not telling him that. Daegen Lok was finding enough things to ridicule on his own, without Xesh providing him more fodder by sharing anything with him.

“I suppose you've used up your daily quota of words?” Daegen Lok commented once it should have been clear there would be no answer forthcoming.

“No, I'm saving them up for when I'm around someone I want to talk with,” Xesh snapped.

That earned him a moment of silence, during which he had time to marvel at how surprised the older man looked, and reflected that maybe he shouldn't have said that after all. Insulting those in power was always a terrible idea, and telling them that you disliked their company was an even worse one.

He was definitely catching whatever made everyone in the place act like the rules of the universe did not apply.

Then Daegen Lok snorted. “And here I was worried you'll never talk back. Maybe I can teach you something after all.”

He actually sounded amused.

  

* * *

 

 

Shae was absolutely not surprised that Xesh had joined the ranks of people who were frustrated beyond belief by interacting with Daegen Lok. She might have only met him twice at best before he left to meditate in the desert, but she had heard enough to know that it was the usual reaction.

In fact, she found him horribly annoying too.

“So, learning with Master Lok is not that great?” she asked, as they both settled down on the floor.

Xesh's neutral frown turned into a glower. “No.” She hadn't expected more, given that he still wasn't big on talking, but he actually did continue. “He's frustrating, and I've no idea what he wants, and he keeps making fun of me.”

“Everyone finds him annoying,” she said and made a face. “The worst part is that he actually _is_ as smart as he believes he is.”

Xesh gave her a look of disbelief so sincere it made her wonder if he was doing it on purpose. “That's possible?”

Shae giggled and heard him laugh a moment later. So, it had been a joke. And that definitely meant he was trusting her more than in the beginning. It was a bit weird to see him stop frowning, since so far it seemed to be his default expression. And it made a rather startling difference—just like the shared moment of mirth did.

“You might be right,” she said, grinning. “It probably isn't. But he is pretty damn intelligent, still.” Well, giving him some advice on handling people like Daegen Lok wouldn't hurt, would it? “He'll actually get more bearable if you talk back to him and if you ask about stuff.

The smile on his face faded and he gave her a very sceptical look. “Won't he just keep on making fun of me, if I do that?”

“Well, yes,” Shae replied. “But it's not like there's any way to make him stop doing that, so you might as well tell him what you think.”

Xesh continued looking sceptical.

“Really, I'm pretty sure you hadn't thought anything that someone else hadn't told him before,” Shae said. Although, perhaps she was being too optimistic. If he was actually comparing him to his owner and Daegen was coming out similar, then even his enormous ego would probably take a hit. “Anyway, he's supposed to teach you, so you should really think about what you want to ask him. It's his job to answer your questions now.”

The sceptical look Xesh had been giving her seemed to melt somewhat now. “Even if they’re stupid?”

“What would you define as a stupid question?” Shae asked.

“Things I ought to know or be able to figure out on my own,” Xesh said.

Well, if that was what had him worried, she had good news. “He still has to answer them, because clearly, you don’t know them and are not able to figure them out on your own.” She winked at him. “And if you deliberately ask him something really stupid, it counts as talking back, so it’s a win too. I mean—this actually serves a purpose. You can indicate that he’s telling you something obvious, or that he’s being frustrating or a jerk.”

Xesh gave her the kind of look people tended to give with presented with something they just can’t wrap their mind around. “But… I’m- Why would he care what I think?”

“Because if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to teach you anything,” Shae said. “And because he’s just a jerk and not actually evil.”

 

* * *

 

  

Daegen had found his old spot, where he used to sit and read before he'd left for the desert. It had changed—like everything in the past ten years: the part of the cliff the window looked out at had crumbled off, exposing new layers of dark orange stone. Someone had put a flower pot besides the window with a large frond. But he could still put a cushion on the floor opposite to it, and tune out the world in one way or another.

Except, clearly, either not-so-little-anymore Shae Koda was a proficient tracker or someone had informed her about that particular habit of his, given that no sooner had he settled down than she was sitting down opposite him with about as much regard for her clothes as Master Quan usually demonstrated.

“I'm trying to make your job easier, so do me a favour and don't make my hard work go to waste,” she said without preamble. “Curb your predatory instincts and try to be nice to Xesh.”

“My dear, you are the one with predatory instincts,” Daegen shot back. “You're starting to act like a brooding rancor.”

It earned him a wonderful glare. “My apologies. I must have forgotten to eat you alive. How remiss of me.”

It was rather hard keeping a straight face then—he could see why Master Quan had taken this particular young woman as his apprentice. She had about the right amount of irreverence. Still. She was at least ten years too young to be lecturing him about what to do with barely adult uncivilized children.

“I am eternally grateful that you have proven stronger than your mother uxi instincts,” he said. “Nevertheless, I know what I am doing.”

“Respectfully,” she said—and like everyone ever before who had used this phrase, she had been as far from respect as possible without being on another planet, “you have no kriffing clue what you are doing.”

Perhaps he ought to have thought than that this was a punishment from the Force for being an irreverent know-it-all shit in his youth, but he was fairly sure that spot was already covered by Xesh. He did know how to treat irreverent know-it-alls. Sullen grumpy uncivilized children, not so much.

“Very well, then,” he said. “What is your advice, oh fount of wisdom?”

“You need to be more patient,” Shae replied. Daegen felt somewhat surreal then—was he really being instructed on the basics by someone half his age? “He doesn't trust _us_. He trusts me. And that's it.” She pointed to herself then and made a chopping gesture with the other hand. “I don't think it occurred to him that a society can function without abusers being in charge.”

It was an enlightening observation. One he probably ought to have made on his own.

“Ask him if he wants to do something and if he says no, respect it,” Shae added.

“That's not exactly how teaching works,” Daegen pointed out. “He needs to do what I tell him to, if I'm to teach him anything.”

Shae rolled her eyes. “There's this novel concept called explaining. He's not stupid, and you're exceptionally smart. I'm sure you can work with that.” 

“There's a reason why I never had an apprentice, and it's not just that I've spent ten years in the desert,” Daegen grumbled. “And here I hoped I might skip those things with an adult.”

Shae failed to show any compassion for his plight and started snickering.

“If this goes on, it will also turn out I have to teach him the facts of life, won't it?” Daegen continued gloomily. It only provoked more snickering.

“Don't be so over-dramatic,” Shae chided. “Stepping out of your comfort zone and explaining things that you think are obvious is a very good philosophical exercise.”

And here he was, being lectured by an apprentice, who was having far too much fun doing that as far as he could tell.

“Have you considered changing temples and focusing only on teaching?” he asked. 

“Oh no,” Shae answered quickly. “Children don't usually try to eat me once a day. It gets boring without it.”

Daegen, fortunately, had been spared most of this, given that his interest in animals lay more in how they could help him study brains and how they worked, rather than observing and learning about huge carnivorous creatures. Nevertheless, given that huge carnivorous things were exactly what Quan-Jang studied, they had featured occasionally in Daegen's training.

“So, any breakthroughs when it comes to carnivorous monsters sane people avoid?” he asked. Maybe he was growing old, but for a moment, he felt like he missed some of the scaly horrors.

Predictably, it meant he spent the next half an hour listening to stories about things that could swallow him whole.


	8. Where Daegen Tries to Fit a Course on Law and Society into One Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changes that are not the result of the current plot are listed at the end of the chapter.

Xesh opened his eyes just as he sensed Daegen Lok stop in front of the door. He watched it open from the floor and then counted the openings the older man gave him to strike since he had entered. There had been four obvious ones and five less glaring ones until he sat down on Xesh's bed.

Maybe he should tell him about those? Or would that mean he'd have to deny plotting murder again? It didn't count as plotting, if you did it half-consciously, because you might need to defend yourself at any moment, did it?

“Do I have something on my knee?” Daegen Lok asked. He wasn’t exactly irritated—more like exasperated.

“No,” Xesh answered. He wondered what would happen if he’d told the man to leave—he doubted he’d just leave. It would probably prove something, and whatever it would be, it wouldn’t be worth not having to deal with him, he suspected.

“Then perhaps you'd like to share what you were thinking so hard about? Or is something about my leg offensive to you?” Daegen Lok continued. He leaned forward, chin against his fist, elbow on his knee.

His posture was a challenge—all ‘you won’t dare to attack me’—and his words were definitely meant to get under his skin, make him snap. Surely, he had to have figured out that Xesh was not going to react to that. Although... He didn't know if he could talk back to Daegen Lok like Shae had suggested, but he could at least try asking some of the questions he had. If he was supposed to teach him, then that involved answering those, didn't it?

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why are you trying to teach me how _you_ use the Force, and not learn how to neutralize someone like me?”

“Do you want that?” Daegen Lok asked. And now the tone changed. He sounded softer, and the exasperation was replaced with something else. Pity? He wasn’t sure. “It could mean that you would die or be crippled.”

Xesh shook his head. He did not want to be hurt, and he didn't want to die, but- “Why would it matter to you what I want? If gives you a greater chance of survival for you, why bother with me?”

The answer didn't come right away. The older man shifted and resettled to a more comfortable position. At least, Xesh assumed an elbow poking into his leg like that would grow uncomfortable quickly. “I could tell you that there's no guarantee that what we'd learn from experimenting on you would help us stop your former masters, but that's not very convincing, is it? Even if there's no guarantee, there's still a chance.”

Xesh nodded. This was making sense so far.

“Let's try this—you were wounded in the crash. You would have died. So, whatever way you use the Force, you will still bleed when cut and you will die, if you lose enough blood.”

Daegen Lok watched him then, as if expecting him to say something.

“And so do the Rakata,” Xesh finished. This answered one part of his question—they knew enough already. But that still left them with an unproductive prisoner just sitting there, eating three meals a day which could feed someone more useful, and occupying a room others could have used.

“What we could learn from you, is how exactly you use the Force—but it will work much better if you explain it to us,” Daegen Lok said. “And to do that, you'd need the right tools, which you don't have. We might eventually get somewhere, but it will be easier, if you know our frame of reference.”

Xesh nodded again. That was still reasonable—they _weren't_ ignoring how the universe worked. They just... seemed to approach it from a different direction? If he understood how they learned, how they thought, he could explain better how the Rakata worked.

“That's still not the only reason,” the older man continued. “Hm... Let's see—tell me, if I broke my arm, what would I feel?”

Xesh looked up, wondering if that was some sort of a trick question. But he couldn't see or sense any signs that it was, so he hazarded an answer. “Pain?”

“Would it be any different from how you'd feel?”

That was definitely a trick question. But... So far, the worst that Daegen Lok had done was make fun of him—it was annoying, yes, but if that was all, did he really have to worry that he'd get it wrong?

“No,” he said, eventually. Then, after a moment, he added, “Well, maybe you don't have to worry that if your arm heals badly you'll be useless and you'll need to be replaced...”

“Hm, no, can't say I ever had to worry about that,” Daegen Lok answered. “But we can both agree that being in pain is unpleasant, correct?”

Xesh nodded. He sort of doubted anyone would disagree on that.

“So, why would I want you to be in pain?” Daegen Lok asked.

“Because I'm annoying?” Xesh hazarded after a moment. The man was far too good at asking things which looked like trick questions. Besides, telling another person why they ought to hurt him seemed like a monumentally dumb idea, the kind that ended up with them using that as an excuse to do something to him.

But, since so far nothing of that sort had happened, Xesh decided to take the risk—it looked like it might be worth it.

“That is clearly not a good enough reason for you, so why should it be for me?” Daegen Lok replied.

“Yes, but you-” Xesh stopped. That couldn't be _that_ simple, could it? “You're... sort of nice to me, so I'm going to be like that too, and you don't have to worry about me hitting you for being annoying, because that's over-reacting.”

“You're doing so well, I'm going to pretend not to have heard you damning me with faint praise,” Daegen Lok said, and gave him a lopsided smile. “So, happy now?”

“No,” Xesh said. And glared, just in case. “I did well, so you owe me food.”

There had to be _some_ rules.

  

* * *

 

The conversation bought three days of less grudging cooperation from Xesh. Apparently, Shae's advice had merit. He probably ought to complement her on her skills in handling dangerous creatures and human beings. And then, Xesh had either gathered his courage again, or perhaps he'd simply reached the end of whatever mental journey their discussion had taken him to.

“You're taking a risk,” he said, after deciding that sitting on a balcony rail was the most logical and comfortable thing for him to do. On the bright side, he was actually making eye-contact now on his own, so perhaps it was simply because that brought him on Daegen’s eye-level? “When you decide to trust someone else not to attack you because you're being... nice to them.”

So they had progressed from “sort of nice” to “significant pause nice”. Perhaps, the boy was not an entirely lost cause. Daegen didn’t think he would be able to interact with someone whose main setting was ‘doormat’ for an extended period of time before turning to drastic measures.

And he wasn’t even sure what the drastic measures in this case could be.

“But I also gain more,” he countered, as he leaned against the wall. “And so does the person I trust. Starting with the fact that we can both focus fully on whatever we are doing, instead of diverting part of our attention towards a possible betrayal.”

Xesh fell silent then, his attention mostly on whatever it was that was going on in his head. His mind felt so much less of a frozen sea with something horrible hidden beneath the ice, nowadays. Oh, there was still fear—Daegen suspected it would never entirely go away—and hostility, but it was not the whole of his being anymore.

He let him think. Sometimes, it paid to prod, and sometimes, it paid to step back and wait.

“You could win because of this,” Xesh eventually said, proving that in this case waiting had been the right choice. “The Rakata cannot conceive of people like you. That someone could decide that their benefit means less than the benefit of the whole.”

“All of them?” Daegen asked, standing straight again. He was having trouble imagining a society like that, to tell the truth. Wouldn't they have backstabbed each other into extinction long ago?

Xesh shrugged. “Those I met were all like this.”

“Well, you're the expert,” Daegen replied. Still, the question sat under his skin like a rusty nail. How? How can you build a society so monstrously evil, so completely devoted to a cult of self, where nothing but the interest of oneself matters? How did it not crumble, how did it not break?

“I think they eat the ones that could grow up to be not completely horrible as children,” Xesh continued, peering over his shoulder at the Chasm. One day, they would have to touch on the subject of topics you did not carelessly drop like that. Then, he turned his head back to look at Daegen and asked, “What do you do with people who are completely horrible here?”

“You will have to define completely horrible,” Daegen said. Somehow, he doubted it would be anything simple like 'people who nag too much'.

“Those who kill without any reason,” Xesh said after a moment. Daegen wasn't sure if he liked the fact that he had been thinking about the answer that long. Or that the category was so narrow.

“Isolate them, so that they don't cause any more harm,” Daegen said, having decided to assume this category included truly hopeless cases, as rare as they were. “That usually is about the only thing that is not needless cruelty, when there is no hope someone will understand their mistakes or failings.”

For a moment, he thought about keeping Hadiya secret, but no—the boy would learn about her eventually. “There was only one case during my lifetime that the Council sanctioned death for someone. She was… a charismatic and brilliant leader, but was also trying to lead Shikaakwa—her homeworld—to war with Tython. If we had isolated her, her followers would have freed her, and she refused to listen to any arguments.

“She died in her sleep.”

Xesh frowned and Daegen silently congratulated himself, because by now he could tell when the boy was only thinking hard and when he was angry just by expressions alone, without any hints from the Force. This was clearly the first case.

“Why would you care if you're cruel towards them or not?” Xesh eventually asked. “It's not like they're going to do the same for you.”

“Because I am not them,” Daegen replied. “Because if they do not understand what they did wrong, and will never grasp it, than harming them will not change it. They will only want to harm me back. Because if I can excuse being cruel towards them, then I will be able to excuse further cruelty.”

“What about fear?” Xesh asked. “If they’re afraid you will hurt them, won’t that keep them in line?” Then, before Daegen could answer he shook his head. “It’s resources, right? You have to keep making them fear you, because when they decide you’re no longer a threat, they’d just kill you.”

Daegen nodded. He found himself wondering just how much potential got wasted by making Xesh a slave. He still could be more than just an attack dog, but...

“I think I understand,” Xesh continued. “I didn't want to kill you, even though I don’t like you, and don’t like how you act. I didn’t want to kill your Council either, even though they decided to lock me up. I did want to kill the rakata a lot.”

“I am eternally relieved to hear that,” Daegen answered. He actually was quite satisfied with where they ended up, but really there was no reason to overwhelm the boy with too much positive attention. The greedy monster would likely only see it as a reason to demand more chocolate.

Xesh glared at him, but he was decidedly getting less venomous about that lately.

 

* * *

 

Vev had been making adjustments to her plan. Crashing a ship was dangerous, and although she was pretty certain that death was preferable to being a slave, living free was probably even better. And she was also reasonably certain that even if the crash was controlled, she still could die, which would end her plan of freeing herself pretty permanently. So, she would not crash her ship. She'd land it, tell the natives to blow it up—unless they killed her before she got that far.

But then it wouldn't matter, because she'd be dead. Which, again, would mean a permanent end to any plans she had.

Then there was another thing. She couldn't be sure, because there were so many Force-sensitive people on the world she was heading to, but she thought there was a presence among them that should not be there.

There had been a boy once. He had been small, and hungry, and tired. Those were reasons why people died. Vev couldn't quite remember why she had stabbed the older slave, when he had decided that the boy was a likely target, but she had.

Neither she nor the boy had been hungry that night.

What she did remember was that neither she, nor the boy would have survived, had they remained apart. There had been so many dangers a lone child could fall victim to, but the two of them could watch each other’s backs or stay awake while the other rested.  But that had been years ago, and the boy had stopped being small and helpless long ago. She did not need him, he did not need her.

He belonged to a predor now, the same one that had trained her before deciding she’d make a fine gift to Dictator Skal’nas. The same predor who was the reason—well, one of the reasons—she had her chance to escape.

Still, she had been... sad, when she found out that Predor Tul'kar's ship was lost. She hadn't wanted Xesh to die.

And now, she thought, sometimes, that she could still sense him. Or someone who felt a lot like him, at least. It didn't feel exactly like him. There was something that was—not wrong—but different. Fundamentally so.

She did not trust her senses there. It was likely wishful thinking—she wanted something familiar, something that made her feel safe when faced with danger. Xesh was probably just as dead as his master. After all, she could not sense Tul’kar, and Force Hounds rarely outlived their masters. If the natives had killed the predor, then Xesh would be also dead.

There would be no one to speak for Vev when she came. She'd be on her own, just like she had been for years.

Or maybe she was afraid that he was alive and she would bring only news that the natives already knew? If Xesh was alive, and Tul'kar was dead... then maybe, maybe her idea wasn't as new as she had thought.

But if that was the case, maybe she could convince Xesh that they were more useful together—her master had been of higher rank. She had heard him discuss things Xesh would not know about. And she knew him—had known him. That might count for something, however little it would be.

Well, she had gambled already. What was one variable more?

In the end, she would either die or be free. Neither had stopped being preferable to her present situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Despot War with Hadiya was much smaller, for various reason, but mainly because I saw no reason for other planets to side with her, given the political situation in the Tythos system in this AU. There's no Je'daii order for her to raly against, and Tython's primacy over the other planets is felt much less. Daegen's and Hadiya's relationship was also slightly different, but this will be covered later in story.


	9. Where Daegen Discovers He Owes Cake

Looming invasions were a nuisance, Shae decided. She could have been spending her time productively, observing the recently hatched saarl young and their mother, but no. Some stupid horrible space-imperialists were going to insist on being horrible space-imperialists and that meant she had to spend more time on practicing sword-fighting.

Not that she was bad at it, but it was not her primary interest. It had been occasionally useful before, but nevertheless, she had not intended to devote herself to the way of a warrior. And now the choice had been taken from her.

Not to mention, the energy-blade thing was just plain weird. A number of smiths had forged themselves more complex swords, with a collapsible blade which once unfolded would be engulfed in energy so that they didn’t have to relearn the balance of their blade. But building one like that required more skill in metal-working than Shae and many others possessed, which meant they all had to build the ones made just of energy.

Handling them was odd—there was no weight where there should be, but on the other hand, she and the crystal were bonded in the Force. With every swing, every moment she spent handling the blade, it was growing easier. There were moments when it felt like she and the blade were one. Letting another build a sword for her would perhaps not be unthinkable, but not the choice she'd make.

She wondered if Xesh missed his sword. But then it wasn't like they could give it back to him just yet—there was no telling how he’d react to so many situations. It was simply better if they did not take the risk.

She took a sip of water and sat down to watch the others practice while she rested.

Shara, who had taught Shae about probability and statistics, was facing another cathar—a man younger than her. They moved with graceful litheness, and one could almost forget that this was combat practice and not a dance. It stood in stark opposition to a trio consisting of a Tythonian native, a togrutan woman—who was probably Sek’nos’s cousin—and a heavy-set iktotchi man, who Shae recalled as the person who could eat most cakes in an hour in their Temple. Despite the disparity in size, it was the tythan who was winning—their small size made them a hard target to hit, and they kept on bouncing like a very energetic ball. With an energy sword.

Similar scenes were happening all over Tython. People getting ready to defend their homes, their lives. It would be a lie if she'd said that it did not scare her. It did. How could one system discourage a whole empire, comprising so many systems, from ever invading them again?

After all, if they had found them once, they would be able to do it again.

But it was not the only thing that was bothering her. There was too little of them to make a difference, but this should not be the case. They didn't have ships that could bring them outside of their system in a reasonable time-frame, one that would allow them to accomplish anything. And there were so many people out there, who were either already enslaved or would become so, in the coming years.

Then, there were the sleeper ships with their frozen crews. Had they unknowingly sent them to their doom?

There was no answer for her questions, just like there was nothing anyone of them could do right now to stop the Infinite Empire.

 

* * *

 

Shae had been acting strangely during this visit—she had asked Xesh if he was tired and if he was feeling well several times, and he could sense something was worrying her. Something that had to do with him, and if he had told her everything was fine, it’d just make her worry more. And if he told her the truth that would also make her worry more.

Really, what was the use of being taught how to kill others nearly in one’s sleep, when something like this made him feel so utterly helpless? He rubbed his wrist absent-mindedly, as he tried to think of something to say.

“You look tired,” she said.

He was tired and couldn’t really deny that. “It’s nothing. Just a bad dream.”

Shae gave him a rather sceptical look. Which probably was well-deserved, since saying it was ‘just’ a bad dream was a monstrous understatement.

“Make it a really bad one,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep later. I… didn’t really want to either.”

He swallowed, but saying anything more suddenly seemed quite impossible. It was as if talking had opened a gate in his head, and the fear was back again, making him feel almost sick.

“I’m right here with you,” Shae said.

It didn’t banish the fear completely, but he managed to push it back and focus on her presence instead of the dream. He reached out to take her hand following a half-forgotten impulse. Her fingers were warm, and her grip a reassuring anchor to the now.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked, after a moment. “You don’t have to, but I’ll listen. And you might feel better.”

That didn't sound terribly likely—but then ignoring it and hoping it would go away hadn’t been working at all either. So he closed his eyes and tried to make himself calm down enough to talk. In the end, he wasn’t sure if he had managed or not, but he tried anyway. 

“Imagine you're locked in the dark and there's a monster with you,” he said. “It's hungry, but if you feed it bits of yourself, it will leave you alone. But then you're missing more and more of yourself, so you take the dark and try to replace what you've lost. And after some time, someone opens the door, and you realize that the darkness is the monster and you're a part of it now.”

 

* * *

 

There had been a number of reasons why Daegen had avoided taking an apprentice for so long. Sitting in the desert, baking himself into understanding his own prophecy had been only one of them. Several of them had been things that he had hoped to avoid—and he had, mostly, given that for all his flaws, Xesh was unlikely to spontaneously revert back to teenagerhood.

Others, not so much.

“Here,” he said, giving the boy some chocolate. It seemed to confuse him mostly, but then, what were teachers for if not to make one think? Having now made sure that niceties have been observed, he proceeded to move to the actual subject. “I think you have an idea what that means and therefore you'd rather not think about it.”

Xesh, who—predictably—had started eating, now stopped and looked away. His hand moved to his forearm, but Shae intercepted it and squeezed his fingers.

“It's about me,” he eventually said. “What I am. And you should stop bothering with me-”

“Stop,” Daegen said, holding out his hand. Clearly, this was not going to be easy—they wouldn’t neatly move to discussing what it meant, since the boy was clearly not fully capable of separating the meaning of the dream from his fear and guilt. “We will do no such thing.”

“But-” Xesh started to protest.

“Child, whatever you did before you came here, you did not deserve what was done to you,” Daegen said firmly. “Whatever you think, that dream does not mean you are beyond help, or a monster—if you really had been, that wouldn't worry you at all.”

The boy gave him a startled look. Likely, the thought had not occurred to him. Well. Had it done so, perhaps he would have put some thought into figuring out what was going on in his head, instead of avoiding it.

“I thought it sounded vision-y,” Shae said.

“Hm, yes,” Daegen nodded. “It does. It's too coherent for a dream.” He focused on Xesh again. “So, do you want to try again?”

“No,” the boy replied quietly. “I don't think I can.”

Which was fair enough. It did not sound like something that anyone would want to go back to. Although, to be fair, so did most things they had learned about his past so far. That, however, meant he was going to start dropping transparent hints.

“Hm, how would you describe the Empire you came from?” Daegen asked. If it had been his dream, he wouldn't have doubts, but with such subjective things as impressions in the Force, one had to be careful. “In the Force.”

“Oh,” Xesh said his eyes going wide. “That's how they taught me to use the Force. And what they make from it—it feeds on them and on us, and they feed on it, and it’s- it’s not what it should be.”

As he spoke, there was a shift in the Force, like something lifting. The sense of wrongness was gone—Daegen could still sense fear and pain from Xesh, but those were simple reactions to trauma.

A piece of chocolate likely didn’t cover something like this. Daegen probably owed him a cake now.

 

* * *

 

“Do you know when you were born?” Daegen asked Xesh, who stared at him blankly for a while. Shae was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that apparently, all they needed to do is convince Xesh he didn’t _need_ to hold onto what he’d been taught by the rakata and he’d just somehow move back to what a person should feel like in the Force. Well, now she was trying to wrap her head around _that_ and how Daegen jumped from the previous subject to dates of birth.

“No,” he said to the surprise of absolutely nobody. At least, not to Shae's and Daegen was not showing any either. “Humans generally don't remember being born, and even if they did, they don't learn to count until much later.”

Shae had by now decided to label that kind of statement from him as 'defensive non-humour', and suspected this time it was an attempt to get Daegen to drop the topic. Which had absolutely no effect at all on the older man, who proceeded with all the subtlety of a boulder to the head. “Hm, people usually celebrate that day every year.”

Xesh absolutely failed to even realize there were any dots, let alone that he was meant to connect them. Or perhaps they managed to sync perfectly and were engaging in a comedy show just for her.

Shae on the other hand was starting to grasp where Daegen was heading, and even possibly why he’d make the jump between subjects.

“Surviving another year can be an achievement,” Xesh said solemnly. Then, his frown grew deeper. “In the Infinite Empire. If you’re a slave. Or old. Or useless.”

Daegen rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That... might be the origin of that particular custom. Surviving another year, I mean.  As far as we can tell, it does date before antibiotics.”

Shae started debating with herself internally in earnest, whether she should help him out and spell it out, or just wait and see how he'd do it. Compassion won in the end, and she said, “What Master Lok is trying to say is that since you don't know, you could just pick a day—like today. If you want to. You have to occasionally make allowances for him, since he's ancient and fried his brain.”

“I believe one must make more allowances for your impatience, child,” Daegen answered haughtily. “I had an intricate plan on how to explain this.”

“Far am I from correcting you, but you were stumbling like a blind uxibeast,” Shae shot back. “It was painful to watch.”

Xesh gave them both a milder frown, and made a show of sitting down more comfortably on the pillows that had been scattered on the floor for them to sit on. Then, when they both looked at him, he said, “I'm deciding.”

It sounded suspiciously like 'Go on'.

“He's learning,” Daegen said. She thought his lips were twitching under the beard.

“I'm supposed to,” Xesh replied maintaining an expression of perfect seriousness.

“Shush,” Daegen said. “You're supposed to be thinking.”

“You wouldn't know I'm learning, if I were quiet,” Xesh replied.

Shae gave up then and started giggling.


	10. Where Educational Gaps Are Filled

Daegen finished his… he supposed report would be an apt description, even if he disliked using the word for the situation. Ketu was looking smug in his own understated way. The other members of the Council displayed various degrees of curiosity, but the other guest at the meeting seemed to be displeased.

“It's an undeniable achievement,” Rajivari said, seizing the opportunity to make someone else feel inferior—or at least try to, given that Daegen was quite certain it wasn’t him who was the inferior one, “however, it will not help us in the coming conflict. Unless anyone has suggestions on how to convince creatures that apparently cannot conceive the notion of altruism not to wage war with us, so we can show them the benefits of sharing and caring.”

Daegen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His little ray of sunshine of an apprentice was radiating irritation too. He decided to inform Xesh that this was why he should appreciate being taught by Daegen once the meeting was over. He was not Rajivari, which meant that while he occasionally was annoying he was never obnoxiously smug in a way that indicated an unhealthy appreciation for one's ego.

It was probably the reason why Ketu always seemed so detached. The poor man had to make it through all those self-indulgent tirades and fish useful lessons out of them. Really, it was no wonder he turned out so introverted.

“Far be it for me to question your wisdom, Master Rajivari,” Daegen shot back in a tone that indicated that he was absolutely going to do just that, “but you must realize that we did more than just teach Xesh how to properly commune with the Force—you must also take into account that in doing so, I have also given him the tools to explain how the Infinite Empire misuses it.”

Perhaps there was some exaggeration in the statement, since what they did establish was that they were going to have to work with a number of metaphors, but Rajivari needed regular bringing down to size.

“As loath as I am to curb your enthusiasm,” Rajivari replied, Daegen's attempt at verbal shooting down having barely registered, it seemed, “I don't see how this will help us win, either.”

“That,” Master Quan said, “is because you have as much scientific inclination as a sea anemone, Master Rajivari.”

Daegen saw no reason not to smirk, and did just that. If Rajivari could be smug, so could he.

“I believe the matter falls under my domain,” Miarta Sek joined the conversation. “And while I cannot judge Rajivari's scientific inclinations accurately, I don't think we can dismiss any new information as insignificant without actually hearing it.”

“We should hear what he can tell us,” Ketu said in his usual placid tone.

_Don't make talk with people sitting behind my back_ most likely, Daegen thought, sensing a spike of discomfort from Xesh. Perhaps, it might have been a good idea to advise the boy on public speaking before putting him in front of the Council. As strange as the sentiment was, not everyone enjoyed being in the centre of attention.

Which, once Daegen considered it, was very nice of them, because it only meant he could be magnanimous and  take away the attention from them and make people pay attention to him. Nature  was such a wonderful thing sometimes.

“You can talk from here,” he whispered. “You're my apprentice now, so no one will expect you to follow protocol anyway.”

Xesh glanced at him, and seemed to relax a fraction, but of course some people couldn’t pay attention to what others were trying to accomplish.

“You feel weaker now,” Rajivari said his dark eyes narrowed in—disapproval? Really, what was _wrong_ with that man?

Xesh, predictably, took that as a challenge. For a moment, Daegen wondered if the Council chamber would need new windows and door again, but no. There was a flare of wounded pride, but it died down surprisingly quickly.

“No, I don't,” Xesh replied, demonstrating that once one was taught that purposefully misunderstanding questions was a great tool for disarming the stupid ones the way towards enlightenment was open. Or at least the way towards providing Daegen with amusement.

Rajivari pursed his lips tightly, clearly not satisfied with the answer.

“Who thought giving Master Lok an apprentice was a good idea?” he grumbled, only to watch Ketu raise his hand. That Master Quan's hand also shot up was no surprise to Daegen at all, but apparently so did Miarta Sek.

Not to mention Daegen himself. He was slightly disappointed no one else seemed to agree. Not even Xesh, the traitorous creature.

“I believe, as questionable a teacher as Master Daegen may be,” the Master of Arts said, “it is not the reason why we are here.”

Some people clearly let their good looks go to their head.

“Perhaps we should finish this topic once and for all, least anyone feels that they had been cruelly deprived of their chance to complain about my teaching methods,” Daegen said, because if that was not an invitation to be contrary, he was growing old and senile. “Does anyone want to add something? Perhaps we could make a neat little pile?”

Ruhr let out a groan. Being a wookiee he was quite gifted in that department, so it lasted for quite a few moments.

“I say this with utmost respect,” the Master of Knowledge said, her blue lekku twitching in irritation, “but perhaps Masters Lok and Rajivari would be so kind as to withhold their contributions so that we might finish this meeting this week?”

While Daegen could absolutely see why Rajivari ought to stay silent, he definitely had much of value to contribute. Still, unlike some people, he could control himself and remain quiet. Unless, of course, someone said something that needed to be commented on.

“Since it doesn’t seem like anyone else has anything pertinent to say,” Ketu said dryly, “I’d like to hear what Xesh has to say. Can you still use the Force the way you did as a Force Hound?”

Xesh shook his head and gave Ketu a defiant look. “No. And I’m not going to try.”

“Why not?” Lha-Mi asked. Which definitely was a pertinent question, but Daegen doubted they’d get a satisfying answer for it. Unlike studying biology, using the Force was a thing of intuition, after all.

“Because then I’ll be what my owner wanted me to be and nothing else. Because it’s about choice—once you choose to use the Force one way or the other, changing it requires you to change the way you look at everything: yourself, other people, the relations between them,” Xesh replied. He glanced at Daegen before continuing, as if drawing comfort from his presence. Which was actually a rather nice thought. “And even if I were as desperate as I was when I was when I first used it like that, I don’t think I could do it again. I know it’s wrong now.

“I’m not sure if- I think there’s something feeding off the darkness in the Force. The more people use it that way, the stronger it grows. But I don’t know what it is.”

“This is all very vague,” Rajivari commented, only for Miarta Sek to hush him.

“The first reason is quite enough for you to never try using the Force again like this,” the old togruta woman said. “The curiosity of others should not impact your recovery. But we need to know if you think others can be convinced to abandon this way of using the Force too.”

Xesh looked at the floor, as if it held the answer to the question. Eventually, he looked up again, and said, “It will take time, but it should be possible at least with some other people.”

“Thank you,” Ketu said and rose from his seat. “I think this will be all. If we have any further questions, we will address them to Master Lok, and he will pass them onto you. You may return to Anil Kesh with him.”

  

* * *

 

Most of what he had read before crash-landing on Tython had been instructions or manuals. Those had been useful, but not meant to entertain. Or give Force Hounds ideas—hence why the few things that he supposed were meant to be amusing he did read, had been stolen.

Did it count as stealing if one was the property of the person one was stealing from?

And now, aside from the things he was supposed to read because Daegen Lok told him to, he had things that were also probably supposed to be entertaining. They were mostly weird though. Or... well, he supposed they weren't weird here.

There had been one story about an orphan. She had spent a quarter of it complaining about it, with periods of describing a twi'lek very colourfully—and while he was not completely sure, he suspected that sapphire and cerulean were two different colours. Or maybe the author had invented the word “cerulean”? It looked suspicious.

And he really, really, really was sick of reading about the twi'lek's breasts, why did he have to know how they moved? And why would anyone want to be around someone who makes them nervous? Although, to be fair, the part with the feeling like something was fluttering in one’s stomach was nearly accurate. He was still fairly sure this was not supposed to be a good thing when it did happen, though.

The other things had been less frustrating to read, although some of them still insisted on having the hero stare far too much at another character and describe their hair, eyes or some other body part in a way that made Xesh wonder if they were seeing it for the first time in their lives. Although, in some cases, at least it was interspaced with fragments about people finding their place among other people.

There was a particular one he had liked, where the hero had been wandering all over Tython (and got into trouble everywhere and then would spend the next few chapters trying to fix everything).

But here he was, trying to figure out if he had actually really read the last part or if his mind had wandered somewhere really strange, because there was no way a sentence could twist itself like that, instead of re-reading the story he had liked.

Maybe his attention had wandered and he read bits of three sentences, instead of one?

_Her eyes like limpid tears-_

What did that even mean?

_-she met her durasteel orbs-_

What durasteel orbs? How did one meet those anyway? And why was the twi’lek even meeting them if they belonged to her?

_-and gazed into them with a secret longing._

A longing to escape the story maybe? At least that was the only idea he had. What was even the point of this?

_As her head clears, she looks up at the person who pulled her out of the maelstrom. Silvery eyes, like a greedy god plucked stars from the sky-_

How was that supposed to work? Were they supposed to glow? And which greedy god were they talking about exactly, anyway? Because he was fairly sure three-quarters of the rakatan gods qualified both as greedy and the type to pluck out eyes.

_-meet her searching gaze, holding her spellbound. A voice, musical and twinkling like windchimes emerges between the full cerulean-_

Again with the probably invented words. And didn’t lights twinkle? Maybe they had windchimes that also glowed when it was windy, and the twi’lek’s teeth were flashing?

_-lips of her savior, and asks: "Are you alright?"_

A quick gaze down the passage told him that there was a lot more winding descriptions ahead of him, all about various body parts of the twi’lek and some dialogue scattered in between.

There was no way he was getting through the story on his own. It felt too much like reading some sort of code to which he didn’t have a key.

  

* * *

 

Truly, teaching broadened one's horizons. Daegen had been studying the text on the datapad intently for the past thirty seconds, but he was still unsure if he understood what the author had been trying to tell him. Someone ought to have put a warning about the dangerous concentration of metaphors.

“Cerulean is a shade of blue,” he finally said. His apprentice looked practically insulted at hearing that, so Daegen added, “Not the one you'd normally use to describe sapphires though.”

Having tackled the simpler question, he had no choice but to move to the other one. The one that indicated that his fears had absolutely been not unfounded. “I... might not be the best person to ask about why people would find breasts attractive.”

“Why does it even matter?” Xesh asked mutinously.

“Because that appears to be the point of the story,” Daegen said, and promptly corrected himself, “It's a romance.”

Which of course proved to be also a completely unenlightening answer, given the silence and the blank look Xesh was giving him. Daegen tried to collect his thought—this was going to be more complicated than explaining sex, wasn't it?

“This may seem unrelated, but do you know where children come from?” he asked, as he took he keyed commands on the datapad. He was going to need diagrams.

Xesh eyed him suspiciously. “Incubators?” Then, just before Daegan started to explain, he added, “Eggs?”

He really hoped some cataclysm would wipe out the Infinite Empire, because that was just ridiculous. What was even the point of not explaining that? Did evil space-slavers feel shy about sex and childbirth?

“In some species, yes, eggs,” he said, resigning himself to his fate. “Given that you're human, you probably ought to learn how it usually works with humans and species that can cross-breed with humans.”

“Because that can happen accidentally or something?” Xesh asked, clearly unconvinced.

“Actually, yes,” Daegen said. The download had finally completed, so he handed the datapad back to Xesh. “Essentially, you need two sets of chromosomes—one is carried in sperm produced by the males, and another carried in an ovum—those come from the female. Humans—and all the species they can cross-breed with—are viviparous—which means that the foetus develops in the womb of the female instead of in an egg.”

Xesh had been studying the content of the datapad with a mystified expression for quite a while, before eventually shaking his head. “How does it all fit in there?”

Daegen peered at it over his head to see what he was talking about. It was a perfectly ordinary depiction of the organs involved in the act with their internal construction drawn. “If you go to next chapter, there will be an explanation on how human reproductive organs develop. That should answer your question.”

Xesh obediently clicked on the screen to move to the next page, where a diagram of a couple in the act was shown, showing the biological reactions of a human male and female.

“That... involves far too much touching,” Xesh said, giving the tablet a rather worried look.

Daegen peered at it over his head. It was a perfectly ordinary depiction of the organs involved in the act. “There's usually more involved before you get to this part,” he said, because one was supposed to be thorough. “Now, as I was saying—since the foetus is developing in the womb-”

“The man must get his sperm inside—that's obvious,” Xesh said glaring at him. “And there's a whole text about... stuff. I can read that later. The book had two women, so that's clearly not about that.”

“It's usually enjoyable,” Daegen said. “So, people don't just have sex to procreate, but to relax or bond. How casually one approaches having sex varies from person to person—for some it's something that is done with people they trust and are very close, for some it's enough if the partner is willing and attractive enough.”                               

It was really quite amusing watching the boy when he was thinking hard—for someone who seemed to never stop frowning, he could very visibly go from “totally confused” to “oh”.

“So... the main character wants to have sex with the twi'lek because of how her breasts move?..” he said. “And that's not a stupid reason?”

And that was when Daegen started wondering—some people just didn't feel sexual attraction at all. And while the boy definitely felt strongly about Shae, now that he thought about it, Daegen wasn't actually sure if what he sensed from him had any element of attraction.

"Do you think Shae's breasts moving is interesting?" he asked, figuring he might as well cover all of it at once.

“But they don't,” Xesh replied. He appeared to be mostly confused again, and still showed no indication that he found the idea of another person’s body sexually appealing.

And this went to show that _everything_ could get awkward if the circumstances were right.

“So,” Daegen said, “you actually looked at them long enough to find out.”

Xesh shook his head. “I just notice movement. It might be dangerous. It doesn't mean anything on its own though—I mean... I notice when you stand in a way that would make it easy for me to break your leg. It doesn't mean I want to do that.”

“That's a relief, then,” Daegen said. Well. Was this a unique experience? Or everyone eventually ended up in a conversation with their apprentice that kept going sideways?

How did one explain sexual attraction anyway? Was this covered in some lesson he had never had?

“Regardless, no, this is not a stupid reason,” Daegen eventually said, deciding to leave the 'I thought on how to maim you, but I don't want to' part of the conversation alone. “It's a perfectly valid reason. Most people find specific secondary sexual characteristics more appealing than others.”

“But not everyone,” Xesh replied. “So, you have people who like them all and some who don't care for any.

That was going surprisingly painlessly so far. Aside from the bit about breaking legs.

“Yes,” he said, quite aware that he was probably radiating relief. “The book you were reading is still rather stupid, though. I wonder who wrote it. Where did you get it from?”

“Shae gave me some books to read,” Xesh replied. “This was with them.”

While the young woman certainly had her foibles, Daegen wouldn’t have pegged her as the type to enjoy this type of literature.

“She ought to know, then,” he said. “Let’s ask her.”

  

* * *

 

Shae couldn't help it. She started giggling after the first paragraph. Not only because of the unintentional silliness of the pompous prose, but because she recognized the style. How that thing found itself among what she'd given Xesh to read was a bit of a mystery, but nevertheless—Tasha, Princess Perfect, daughter of Master of the Temple of Knowledge, wrote silly romances about herself and the heroine of the stories about Dashing Drexia.

“Sorry,” she said. “It's just—that's Tasha's—you might remember her? The twi'lek you threw a rock at. She was with the Council later?”

“I think so? The younger one, right?” Xesh replied. Then he looked at the datapad. “Should I have been reading that?”

Well. That was a good question, since Shae had no idea how the story had gotten itself where it now was. She certainly didn’t remember Tasha asking her to read it. The last time she had received any books from her had been five years ago.

“She wouldn't have given it to me if she hadn't wanted people to read it,” Shae said. “Although I really don't remember when she'd have done that.”

Except who else would have given her that?

“Children,” Daegen Lok groaned. “And here I thought your generation would grasp how to use a thesaurus and a dictionary in tandem.”

Well, that was practically an invitation, wasn't it? “Are you implying you could not when you were my age, Master Lok?” Shae asked innocently.

Daegen gave her an amazingly imperious look—the kind that kings and queens probably practiced in front of mirrors so that they could impress their subjects with their majestic stuck-up-ness. “I could use both when I was six. Alas, the same cannot be said for many others. Fortunately-”

“They started sticking to words they actually know?” Xesh guessed.

“Yes, thank you,” Daegen said, turning to give him a suspicious look. “Some of them had even mastered polysyllabic ones.”

“Or stopped talking to you, because they were risking a concussion?” Xesh asked. He was even looking convincingly innocent.

“He's learning, isn't he?” Daegen turned to Shae, looking quite like a parent whose child had just shown them their first drawing.

Which, given that she remembered Master Quan acting like this whenever she talked back, was not surprising at all.

“It's good to know you haven't been feeding him all that chocolate for nothing,” Shae replied.


	11. Where Vev is Brought to the Natives’ Leaders

The natives were not thrilled to see her, though Vev found their reaction a bit of a puzzle. She had landed, carefully checked her surroundings—the readings warned her that there were some larger life-forms around—and slowly descended with her 'saber drawn.

She was greeted with the sight of rather boring trees and mountains that looked like anywhere between like a bother and bloody murder to climb. Some sort of furry creature gave her an unimpressed look and scurried up a tree. Vev considered pulling it down, simply because she wasn’t going to put up with that kind of behaviour from food, except there was also a woman and a man watching her.

“Awww, look she's so tiny,” was the first thing she heard. Vev nearly started—it hadn’t been Basic Rakatan that almost everyone in the Infinite Empire spoke, but rather the language Xesh had taught her when they were children.

The words themselves came from a dark-skinned human woman with reddish brown hair, who was both absurdly tall and built like a duracrete wall. She felt mostly surprised and between repulsed and... Vev wasn't sure what the other emotion was.

Protective, maybe? Why was that directed at her and not towards the man who was with her?

“Yes, a tiny spiky ball of hatred with a stabby light-sword,” a twi'lek man with a blaster said. He was also red and on the weedy side. Unlike the woman, he was simply suspicious. Well, if he wanted a spiky ball of hatred she could be one. Really. “Forgive Norrie there, she is having maternal instincts and teaching hasn’t done anything to stop her from mothering everyone.”

“I check on my brother once and all he does is complain I mother him,” the woman sighed. It sounded weirdly rancorless and she didn't feel angry at all, even if the twi'lek had been clearly insulting her. And did she just say he was her brother? How did that even work? “Forgive Sanaa, he thinks he's funny.”

Vev definitely was not going to forgive anyone, regardless of what they were thinking and of their rampaging maternal instincts. Especially being called tiny. She was a Force Hound, and her size did not matter at all.

“So, you saw the other one—was he like that too?” Sanaa asked his companion, quite cheerfully unconcerned with the fact that Vev did not like him at all. Still, “the other one”?

“Jumpier, taller, male and prettier,” Norrie answered, which was a thoroughly unsatisfying way of describing someone. Vev couldn't tell anymore if the person she sensed somewhere on this planet was Xesh—hadn't been for a while now. “Is that actually relevant in any way? Look, maybe we should do this properly. I'm Noortje Eilidh—Knight of Stav Kesh. That is Sanaa of Qigong Kesh. And you are..?”

“Vev,” Vev said. A human with a title—that was quite new.

“Right, we could have guessed,” Sanaa muttered. “It's written on her face.”

“Shush,” Knight Noortje said. “Can you maybe turn off your sword? I mean, we probably could fight if you absolutely insist, but since you didn't attack I guess you aren't really interested in that?”

Escaping from slavery really oughtn't to be so easy. It kind of made everyone look stupid for not trying it earlier. Still, even if she had been welcomed by infuriating nuisances, Vev was still fairly certain that listening to those two for the rest of eternity would still be preferable to being a Force Hound.

She turned off her 'saber, and realized she really should have thought about what to say much earlier. Which was a regret she would have to live with, she supposed.

“Um... You're going to be invaded in the future,” she said. “So... er... bring me to your leaders?” 

 

* * *

 

 

At first, Noortje had assumed that this Vev was at best sixteen, but having taken a closer look, she knew she had been wrong. It was mostly the petite stature that had misled her— dathomirian women averaged taller than their human counterparts, close to Noortje's height.

She looked quite mono-chrome with the white hair and skin, and dressed in grey-and-black armour. The only splashes of colour were the red tattoo on her face and her pale-purple eyes. The tattoo especially looked incongruous—in Noortje's experience, grey was the standard colour for those.

And she felt off. Not exactly like the survivor, who—in the brief moment she had spent escorting him to the Council—had felt like someone had cored him and what was left had been filled with a howling frozen dark. The woman was more like a blizzard—reaching outwards and trying to draw things into herself as if they could quiet the storm.

Hopefully, she would not end up like the apprentice of the Master of Science and be tasked with looking after the little ball of hatred.

“Are you going to eat that?” the little ball of hatred asked. When Noortje turned to look she found Sanaa standing with an apple core in his hand, contemplating where to throw it away.

“No,” he said.

A slender gloved hand shot out and a moment later the young woman was munching on the apple core that she practically tore out of his hand.

“That's nice—can I have more when you eat those?” she asked, her mouth half-full.

“You can just have a whole one,” Sanaa said, fishing out a red fruit out of his backpack. It was snatched out of his hand with equal speed and the young woman wasted no time in biting into it. Noortje sensed mistrust from her and surprise, but mostly it seemed like the stupid apple was making her very happy.

  

* * *

 

 

Temple Master Lha-Mi was feeling old. Perhaps it was time to look for a replacement? Of course, there was the question if any of the Knights were ready to take over as the Master of Martial Arts. Somehow, he had doubts any of them would want to trade with him right then.

Perhaps he could send the girl to the Temple of Skills, given that the other person who met the new Force Hound was from there. Still, that was a matter for later.

Lha-Mi curled his fist under his chin as he watched the young woman in front of him. She was short, and her built was mostly obscured by the armour she was wearing, but the way she tracked his movement and how she stood—coiled like a snake waiting to strike—indicated she was a warrior.

And, going by how his elbow had felt after Xesh had nearly broken it, probably quite a dangerous one.

“You are abandoning your owner, correct?” he asked and the woman nodded. “Why?”

The woman started fidgeting then, quite like a nervous teenager.

“Um... I don't like him, he's awful and and- and I'm not stupid, I don't know why I didn't think about running away earlier, and I know you'd rather not get invaded, but you were going to end up invaded anyway so... er... I thought that I could tell you things, and maybe hide, and not go back,” she blurted out, all on one breath.

Lha-Mi blinked slowly. This one certainly was not taciturn. Having dealt with nervous teenagers before, he was fairly certain he managed to catch all of it.

“I see,” he said. “And what can you tell us?”

“Er... stuff about plans and things,” the woman answered, equally quickly, as if afraid the words would escape if not spoken the moment they formed in her mind. “My master was more important than Predor Tul'kar—that's the one who was scouting here, so even if you have him or X- his Force Hound, I know more, because he had me around when he planned.”

She shifted again from one leg to another, and added, “Um... Do you have any of them?”

Though she was trying to hide it, Lha-Mi thought he sensed concern from her. It was oddly out of place in her. Still, he saw no reason to withhold the information. “The scouting ship crashed, but Xesh survived. He is in another temple.”

“How-” the woman started to speak and then closed her mouth abruptly. She looked at the floor for several seconds and then continued. “How did he survive?”

Lha-Mi was fairly certain a Force blind child would have been able to tell this was not the question the woman had wanted to ask.

“Luck, I presume,” he said. “Now, I need to inform the other temples about you. In the meantime, Noortje can show you to a room and you can shower and eat something.” 

 

* * *

 

 

It was more than unnerving. Xesh recognized whom he sensed—Vev's owner had been his owner's superior. And he'd known her before either of them had- Well. Before.

She didn't feel any different than when he had last seen her. Except, somehow, for years, he'd managed to not realize how wrong she felt. Just like he managed not to realize that the Infinite Empire was a screaming black hole in the Force.

And now he was fairly certain it wasn't because he was outside of it that he noticed. It was just that he had been part of that and now he wasn't.

“Did I feel like that?” he asked.

Daegen Lok looked up from his datapad. “Like what?” he asked, as he scratched his beard.

“Someone came to Tython—don’t you sense them?” Xesh asked. He supposed it was possible—he had been trained from early on to focus on negative emotions, and while Vev certainly didn’t always feel negative, her presence stood in a stark contrast to everything else on Tython.

“I do,” Daegen Lok answered. He put the datapad down then. “And I have no reassurance for you. You did not feel entirely like her, but that’s because you are two different people, not because you were less… We really need to think of a good short description to what you, and whoever that is, and the Infinite Empire do to the Force.”

Xesh shrugged. “It feels closest to something cold and dark.”

Daegen nodded slowly. “I wonder if this is something tied to humans being diurnal and not particularly adapted for very cold climates.” He looked at Xesh, and clearly remembered that as much as his vocabulary in their language had improved, there were still words he didn’t know. “Humans operate during the day and sleep during the night. As opposed to nocturnal animals, which do the reverse.”

“So, it feels like this, because those are the first thing a human will think when they think unnatural?” Xesh asked frowning. “That seems rather far-fetched.”

“Dangerous,” Daegen said. “They’re dangerous, not unnatural.”

“So is getting set on fire,” Xesh pointed out. “Do you know if other species sense it differently?”

Daegen shook his head. “No, I don’t. I assume it would be easy enough—Selkath, for example, are a lot less sensitive to cold than humans.”

That still didn’t seem exactly right, but he couldn’t exactly put a finger on it. For a moment, he mulled over the question, until he finally thought to simply check again what he had sensed Vev to be. It was unpleasant, yes, but then, it wasn’t the same level as so many other things he could imagine or remember.

“It doesn’t feel like ‘I need gloves’ kind of cold,” he said after a moment. “But rather the kind of cold where you’re starting to feel your blood is turning to ice.” Then, because Daegen was giving him an odd look, he added, “Or I guess what I imagine that would feel like. I never did come close to freezing to death.”

“I’m glad to hear this,” Daegen said. His voice sounded dry, as it did most of the time, but he actually did seem relieved. Then, he reached out in the Force too, and frowned. “You’re right about that—it doesn’t just feel cold and dark, but freezing and so dark you can’t see. Two things that would be very obvious warnings, come to think of it.”

“But if it’s a warning, why didn’t you just kill me or lock me up alone?” Xesh asked.

“Hm… Could you try answering this on your own?” Daegen replied.

That seemed quite unfair—he wouldn’t be asking if he had known, would her? On the other hand, if he did get to the right answer, he would be getting more chocolate. So, he should at least try.

So. Where to start? “A warning is just a warning,” he said, thinking aloud. “Just because something is possibly dangerous doesn't mean it always has to cause harm.” Daegen was nodding, so it seemed like he was at the right track. “So, since you couldn’t know for sure I was going to harm anyone, you decided to give me a chance to prove I won’t.”

Then, after a moment, he added, “And since suffering is unpleasant, and you’re not horrible people, you wanted to help?”

It still sounded weird at times, but at the same time there was something very liberating about being able to say that his master was horrible. That being owned, and being hurt, might be how things had been for him, but that didn’t mean it was how they were supposed to be.

“Tell me, do you ever plan on not letting me bribe you with chocolate?” Daegen asked, handing him a piece.

“You hadn’t asked me to do anything that I really hated,” Xesh said. It took him a moment to actually realize just what he had said.

He could have said no at any point. And the only consequence would be not getting a treat he didn’t need anyway. All the things that Daegen had told him to answer or to do—he could have refused at any moment. Any power Daegen had over him as his teacher had been power that Xesh had given to him.

The idea would take some time getting used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on changes:  
> \- Since it wasn’t entirely clear what Trill was supposed to be (Arkanians have all white eyes, but the unmodified ones have golden skin, and it’s too early for offshoots, I think? Plus, if she were an offshoot, she’d have pupils. And Arkanis isn’t part of the Infinite Empire, which sort of ended up clashing with Vev’s backstory), Vev is Dathomirian now.


	12. Where Chocolate Plays an Important Role

The whole world seemed to be somewhat off. Her master and his betters would decorate themselves in the trappings of their rank—ceremonial weapons that were impractical, but eye-catching; armour that was flimsy but created by the finest artists; massive buildings with reliefs that spanned for tens of meters; triumphant statues that towered over cities, so that no one would dare to forget who was on the top. Vev could list examples one after another.

The creature that was supposed to be the Master of the Temple of Martial Arts had received her in a room that was bereft of such displays of rank. She had noted weapons on one of the wall—most of them broken—probably trophies. Then, on the wall behind him, there was a number of pictures all drawn in an unsteady hand, showing either stick figures or what Vev tentatively decided to label as landscapes. Otherwise, the room was austere—the furniture was sparse and wooden, the walls white...

Vev adjusted the sleeves of a borrowed shirt—it was slightly too big, and the collar kept sliding sideways.

“I trust the food was to your liking?” the Master of the Temple asked. His forehead sloped downwards, easing directly into a broad nose with four nostrils that dominated his whole lined face. White hair framed it all, flaring outwards like a mane.

Vev nodded. It was much better than what her own master would feed her, unless he was feeling extremely generous or wanted to show off that he could waste money on a slave.

“Good. Let us move on to business than.” The Master of the Temple sat down and motioned for her to do likewise with his lower left arm. He had four of those, which probably would make fighting him complicated. Vev hesitated—she would be sitting with her back to the door and- No. She was free and that meant she could sit down when she damn well pleased. “What information can you give us?”

“If I don't report—and I can't do that, because that would require leaving my ship intact, and if you destroy it soon, then he might not be able to followthe tracking device to its source—anyway, if I don't report, my master will assume that this place is extremely dangerous and bring most of his forces—he will leave some behind to keep his... um... buildings and possessions and things secure. That's going to be mostly Flesh Raider troops—they're kind of dumb and Force-blind, but pretty vicious, and slave troops—those are usually mixed and used for things that require more brains than pointing a blaster and shooting.”

Vev paused to take a breath and wondered if she had told him enough to make him trust her intentions.

“What about if you feigned death while sending a message? Inform your master that the world holds nothing of interest for him—only dangers,” Lha-Mi asked, lacing his fingers underneath his chin and resting his elbows on his knees.

“I... don't know,” Vev replied truthfully. It was just something—well, if it had happened either no one knew, or no one told her in case she might get ideas. “They might still come, in hopes of finding Force-creating minerals or whatever. Um. Your world is kind of very visible in the Force. You'd have to make it sound like a death-trap with no resources, I guess?”

“Is that why your empire is planning to invade us? Resources?” Lha-Mi asked.

“That and they're worried you might be or might become dangerous if left alone,” Vev said. “But mostly, they want fuel for the Star Forge.”

“What is the Star Forge?” Lha-Mi asked, leaning forward. Vev tried not to flinch back, and thought she managed to reign the instinctive reaction. He was still at a safe distance, she had no reason to expect him to attack.

“I don't know exactly—I can repeat what I heard: it’s the glory of the Rakata, the apex of the Infinite Empire,” she said. It had been one of the rare lessons that she had learned by heart before her mother had given her as a tribute to their masters. “It’s a machine of invincible might, a tool of unstoppable conquest.”

That was definitely too little, but she really had no other ideas of what it might be. Well, probably not an actual forge where they made stars.

“Um, I'm pretty sure the name is mostly supposed to be impressive,” she added, just in case. “And can’t create actual stars.”

“That is reassuring,” Lha-Mi said in a tone that Vev thought was meant to be joking. “I wouldn't trust your empire with that kind of responsibility.”

It was actually pretty funny. Vev tried to stop herself from laughing—but once the first giggle broke past her lips, she couldn't stop. Something warm and wet dripped down her cheek, and fell on her hands.

But she wasn't crying. She hadn't cried since she was a little girl.

  

* * *

 

 

Out of the things that Daegen had expected he’d need to teach to his apprentice, cooking had not been anywhere on the list. Though only barely, Xesh was an adult. That, at least to Daegen, had always meant that one was at least capable of making soup and noodles.

Well. Xesh knew how to feed himself, that much was true. But apparently, that meant something very different for him, than it had meant for Daegen—making actually tasty food seemed to be something akin to magic performed by a specialized priest caste. In the absence of anyone capable of preparing proper food, Xesh would just eat anything with some nutritional value that would not poison him.

Really, he was doing everyone a favour, because effigies to people who knew how to season their food would be an embarrassing development.

Reasoning that Xesh was easily bribed with chocolate and that once upon a time he had made chocolate cake, Daegen decided it would be the perfect thing for a first lesson. (Also, it contained alcohol, and he really needed a drink after explaining why cannibalism, and eating brains, were both very bad ideas.)

It turned out not to be that great.

“Are you tasting the batter again?” he asked, as he eyed the growing pile of dirty dishes with some trepidation. Had he actually ever turned the dishwasher back on? Because there was no way he was washing all of this.

“I did it once,” Xesh replied, putting the spoon and the bowl away. A bit of batter slid down on the table—a nearly invisible blemish on the dark surface. “The three other times don’t count, because I needed to know if I added everything.”

“You were the one adding all the ingredients,” Deagen groaned. More cleaning. At least he’d been smart enough to choose furniture which was easy to clean, back when he’d been furnishing the kitchen. “How exactly do you expect not to know what you put into it?”

Xesh did not dignify him with an answer and made a show of checking the recipe instead. As it turned out, it still meant he’d have to acknowledge that Daegen was still there, since the batter was ready.

And mostly uneaten, despite Xesh’s efforts.

“How do I set the temperature?” he asked, eyeing the oven suspiciously.

“See the pad?” Daegen said, indicating the dark screen just over the oven. “Just tap it, and then choose the temperature you want.” And then, because he was supposed to be still making sure the boy was training he added, “And you can practice meditating while we wait.”

  

* * *

 

 

Daegen’s kitchen no longer looked unused. They had cleaned up most of the mess—Xesh still was still a bit unclear how the flour had ended up on one of the chairs, but it no longer smelled of cleaning products. Instead, it smelled like the cake. Which was concave in the middle. Apparently, that was something that would require improvement. Xesh was not entirely sure why, since it tasted of chocolate like it was supposed to.

“If it’s such a big deal why not put something over it?” he asked and watched Daegen try to make both an impressed and unimpressed expression at the same time.

“That’s what one usually does,” he said, once he decided he wanted to look unimpressed.

Which obviously meant that cakes collapsing in the middle was something that happened not just to Xesh. And since Daegen was so very interested in having Xesh figure out as much as he could on his own, he pointed that out. “So, what do I put there?”

“A kind of cream, I suppose,” Daegen said with a shrug. “But since you already ate some, I think you will have to wait a while to learn about decorating cakes.”

The older man seemed quite relieved about it, but Xesh was in a very good mood—and he did just learn how to make nice food from Daegen—so he decided not to ask him if this was because Daegen had to learn how to do it himself first.

His magnanimity was rewarded in a typical way: by irritating comments.

“Ten minutes,” Daegen announced leaning a bit further in his chair. It creaked and then bumped softly against the wall.

“Of what?” Xesh asked, puzzled. They’d finished everything, so it wasn’t like he had to time anything, was it? He looked around just in case, but nothing new had materialized in the kitchen—the cupboards were still dark brown-red and glossy, the tiles on the walls remained off-white and so did the floor. 

“Of you not frowning,” Daegen answered, once Xesh looked at him again. “And now you’re doing it again.”

As if the reason weren’t obvious. “I probably wouldn’t have started if you hadn’t mentioned it.” And then it hit him. It was just something he absolutely couldn’t pass on. Xesh leaned back and continued. “So, if you want me not to frown so much, don’t mention it.”

“And here I was worried your forehead might slide off if you don’t exercise it,” Daegen replied dryly.

“At least I don’t need to hide half of my face under hair,” Xesh said. That one sort of occurred to him on its own.

Daegen gave him a rather sour look then. “Please, don’t pay me so many compliments, or I will start thinking you actually like me.”

He could have said something about that never happening, but he didn’t. He hadn’t thought about earlier at all—what with Daegen’s natural state being “nuisance”—but he actually did like him. And not just because of the chocolate. It seemed to have happened somehow without any warning, quietly in the back of his head.

“But I do like you,” he said without really thinking.

Daegen gave him a surprised look—he really hadn’t expected anything of that sort, it seemed. Which was odd—why else would Xesh trust him enough to bicker with him all the time? He also seemed to have trouble coming up with an appropriate answer for a longer moment.

Had he actually found a way of shutting him up for good? It seemed to be too good to be true—and a moment later, it turned out that it was not true at all. Daegen was still impossible to silence.

“Well, at least you’re starting to show some good taste.”

  

* * *

 

 

Vev returned to Lha-Mi’s office from the bathroom that was adjacent to the office having washed her face, feeling as out of place as the first time. This time, though, they have moved to a sturdy table made of pale wood. There was a tea pot, plates with pieces of dried fruit and other treats and two cups. It seemed like someone else would be coming then—either after Lha-Mi questioned her or to be present during questioning.

“Please sit down,” the Master of the Temple said and Vev complied after a moment of confusion. “Tea?”

It was really a bit surreal. Someone was offering her tea. Acting like… she wasn’t just furniture.

“Um, yes,” she said, and glanced at the cup. It was pretty plain: white with a small blue geometric pattern around the rim, made of something thin and glossy. The Temple Master poured the tea into it—it was different from what she had expected; a kind of deep amber red-brown instead of red with a pinkish tinge, and smelled differently. Nice, though.

“We still have questions,” he said, when Vev took her first sip. It was kind of bitter, mostly.

“Of course,” she said with a nod. They hardly got anywhere before. “What do you want to know?”

She tried to keep herself from glancing at the food, but it was kind of hard with it sitting just in front of her, in arm's reach.

“How many Rakata are Force Sensitive?” Lha-Mi asked.

Vev frowned slightly. “All the high-ranking ones. You get some in the lower ranks too, although they tend not to survive that long. They tend to make mistakes that end with them dead and eaten.” She paused, and for completeness sake, added, “Sometimes, they make the mistake after they are dead, but it’s always very well documented.”

“Speaking of killing,” Lha-Mi said, his presence flickering with discomfort for a moment. Vev wasn't sure why—wasn't he a warrior? Surely, killing was part of what he did. “How does one kill them?”

“Uh... The usual way?” Vev said after a moment. “You can just shoot them, or burn them or bomb them. They die.”

“And yet, you have not tried killing any of them, have you?” Lha-Mi asked, giving her a penetrating look. She did not like the scrutiny.

She also did not particularly like where this was leading her. “No. I... didn't really- I hadn't thought about it- until... um... until I thought I could run away.”

Lha-Mi nodded, and indicated the plates. “Please, eat.”

Vev gave him an uncertain look, but... well, of course, it made sense for him to want to give her nice food. She was one of the two sources of information they had, and she had belonged to someone of higher rank, so she knew more than Xesh.

She reached out and grabbed a fistful from the nearest plate. It was fruit, dried and slightly sticky, and couldn't fit it all into her mouth all in one bite. Two had been enough, though.

Lha-Mi waited until she stopped chewing and asked the next question, just as she was reaching out for more. “And do the Rakata have any specific ways of subduing a trained Force-sensitive?”

Vev shrugged. “Well, what works best is just overwhelming them. You might be able to sense all the attacks coming, but throw enough bodies and you won't be able to stop all of them. Poison gas works too. Or flame-throwers, but those are kinda ineffective, since they run out of fuel fast.” She reached out again and grabbed some different treats— little brown balls that left smudges on her hands but tasted, but tasted absolutely amazing. She chewed on them blissfully for quite a while, until she realized that Lha-Mi was watching her far too intently. “Um, anyway, Force Hounds are trained to do that too—so generally, hacking someone's hand or leg works too, because they're in too much pain to focus most of the time.”

She took some more of the brown melting treats, wondering if she was missing something.

“And how many Force Hounds are there?” Lha-Mi asked.

“Well, not that many, really,” she said. “My master has- had two. Me and another, but she died, and her replacement was just picked. Some of the higher-ranking officers have one too, but there’re probably more of you than there are of them..” She frowned. “The exact number varies, really, because if someone wants to get rid of an officer—I mean, if they aren't sentenced, or something else legal—then you also have to get rid of their Force Hound. And then we die in duels, occasionally.”

“Can you give us approximates?” Lha-Mi asked, now sounding somewhat irritated.

“Um, I think so? I can give you lots of approximates—just give me something where I can write them down, so you don't have to bother writing them down on your own,” she said quickly. Whatever it was that was irritating him, it was better to soothe him quickly. She had just given him advice on how to subdue her, after all.

“Thank you,” Lha-Mi said. “That is very thoughtful of you.”

Vev settled back and realized with some disappointment that she had eaten all of the amazingly tasty brown things.


	13. Where Tradition Is Upheld

Somehow, Shae was not surprised to learn that they still didn’t know enough. After all, Xesh had only seen a part of the Infinite Empire. He couldn’t tell them all that much about its economy or even how it fed itself. But since he and the newcomer both had held the same position, he could confirm if she was telling the truth. 

And so, Shae was spending the morning asking him questions from a list provided by Master Lha-Mi to Master Quan-Jang. 

“You said you didn't know who the next scout would be,” Shae said, and took a bite of what appeared to be an attempt at cake. It wasn’t a bad one, she decided as she chewed. Although maybe there was a bit too much chocolate. Given who had made it, though, the concept was probably still too difficult to grasp. “But you know the woman whom they sent?”

“Her owner is- was my owner's superior,” Xesh replied. If she hadn’t been able to sense he was upset, the fact that he was poking cake crumbs with his fingers instead of eating them would be enough of a clue. “And we were- I knew her before. They separate Force-sensitive children from other slaves. I guess so that we don't sympathize with them. Or they with us. Anyway, she was in the same group as I was. And we stuck together for a while.”

“So, you used to be friends?” Shae guessed.

Xesh didn’t reply for a moment. He just kept on gathering the crumbs into a neat little pile in the middle of his plate.

“I... think so,” he said eventually. “At one point. But I'd have killed her if my owner told me to, and she'd have done likewise. I don't think- that's something that friendships survive.”

He had a point there, definitely. But on the other hand, shouldn't the other Force Hound understand this, since she had been in the same situation?

“You think you can't trust her anymore?” she asked, trying to figure out what the problem could be. Besides, if he couldn’t trust her and they had been friends that likely meant she wasn’t going to be trust-worthy in general.

“No. Not if her life is at stake,” Xesh replied. He didn't seem to have any doubts about this, at least. Which was rather sad. “It's... something we learn from- from when someone takes you as their Force Hound. That no one will help you unless there's something to gain and that if there's nothing to gain from helping you- Anyway. It's hard to not think like that at first.”

“But unless someone shows you that this is not true, you'll never know,” Shae said.

“No, you won't,” he answered. “Anyway—yes, I do know her. I didn't think dictator Skal'nas would send her to scout. His other Hound was killed recently and training a new one takes time. Sending her means he doesn't have anyone to sense ambushes and the like.”

“So, do Rakata get assigned a flaw they must exercise every day? I mean this guy is clearly several shades of over-confident, and whatshisname your jerk had zero imagination,” Shae replied dryly.

Xesh snorted. “Yes, they probably have secret parties where they compare who is more annoying or more horrible.”

It might have been a fairly bad joke, but he wasn’t poking at his food anymore.

“You know we should start introducing you to people who are not me and Daegen. You're picking our bad habits up,” Shae said jokingly. It seemed it was not the best of her jokes, since she immediately sensed a jolt of anxiety from Xesh. “I’m joking—I’m not angry with you for that comment. And most of my friends won’t be either.”

Xesh shook his head. “It’s not that- I don’t really like being around too many people.”

“How about one person at a time? I'll be there.” Shae replied. She wasn’t surprised the idea didn’t appeal to him, but right now he was terribly isolated. It didn’t mean he had to go out and meet strangers, but it wouldn’t help him, if she let him hide from everyone.

“I'm- If you think that's a good idea,” he said. “I'm not- I don't think I know how this is supposed to work.”

Well, that at least was not much of a surprise. Clearly, the Rakata didn’t want their slaves—or at least the Force-sensitive ones—to have any sort of relationships.

“You won't learn unless you try?” Shae replied doing her best to sound reassuring and not imagine any sort of disasters. Xesh was way too good in sensing negative emotions, sometimes. “It's going to be fine.”

That earned her a sceptical look and a sense of very doubtful 'if you say so' from him. “You're supposed to ask me about more things about the Infinite Empire, so we should go back to that.”

Well, that was a fairly clear indication he didn't want to talk about the subject of meeting other people more. Besides, he did have a point. They were deviating from the subject. Shae inspected her datapad to see what else there was they needed to know.

“Right, so did you ever hear about something called Star Forge?” she asked.

Xesh nodded. “It's in the Lehon system,” he said and then continued in the tone of someone repeating a lesson, “and it’s the glory of the Rakata, the apex of the Infinite Empire. It’s a machine of invincible might, a tool of unstoppable conquest.” He scoffed then. “I don’t know if my owner knew what it does, or if it was something I wasn’t allowed to know.”

“That was not very helpful of him,” Shae said dryly. “Hm. I'm not sure I actually get how the military structure of theirs works.”

Xesh made a face at that. “It's fairly simple, really. You have slaves at the bottom—Flesh Raiders for the brute force assaults—they're genetically engineered lower caste rakata. They’re made to be resilient, but they're generally pretty dumb. And slaves of other species for more complex things, like sneaking up on something and shooting it from cover.

“With Flesh Raiders, you just drop them all at once on a region you want to wipe out. Other slaves are organized into units of ten to thirty, whatever works, and then you have one to three more experienced slaves leading them,” Xesh explained. “Leaders of two or more units are free people—either young Rakata or anyone lucky enough to be born free. Six or eight units make a company, again, led by someone free. Then you have regiments—those are from two to four companies, and only Rakata can lead them.  After that, two to four regiments make a battalion.

“And then you pile them on and on, until the predor responsible for the particular invasion is satisfied or the other predors start yelling, and you put them on as many transports as you need. There’s a limited number of them you can attach to a capital ship for hyperspace travel—enough for one planet usually. And then once you’re done with that, you invade something.” He grimaced. “My owner was one. There was usually a lot of yelling-”

And then he fell silent.

“Wait. Why was your owner out scouting then? That doesn't sound like normal procedure to me?” Shae asked, feeling even more confused than she had been beforehand.

Xesh shook his head. “It's not. I... don't remember very well most of why we were sent here. I think there was something that displeased Dictator Skal'nas—he wanted to prove something...” He fell silent then, clearly frustrated that he couldn’t remember anything more.

“Would Vev know?” Shae asked.

“Probably,” Xesh said after a moment. “She would have heard him mention what it was that made him angry.”

Shae nodded, and then another question occurred to her. “You didn't mention Force Hounds at all in the military hierarchy. Where exactly were you?”

That had not been a subject he had seemed to want to bring up, and she could see him tense now that she asked.

“A status symbol, a bodyguard,” he said, and looked down at his hands. He was balling them into fists, so hard that his knuckles were turning white. She could sense fear from him too. “And we're supposed to sense things for our owners. If someone is planning to attack them. Or other Force-sensitives.”

And then she knew what it was that he was afraid of. It wasn't that he was remembering something—it was what she'd think.

“You didn’t believe you had a choice,” she said.

That probably wasn’t exactly the most reassuring thing she could have told him, come to think of it. After all, no one would ask him to bring anyone to the rakata here.

She put her hand over his, and after a moment he uncurled his fists and nodded.

“It's stupid,” he said after a moment. “I know whatever I would have done would have changed nothing. If I had killed my master earlier, there would have been someone else to take his place. If I had refused to find Force sensitives for him, he'd just have taken another child in my place. But I still- There might have been something.”

Shae almost offered him a hug then, but it would have been quite pointless. They may have gotten to the point where he was fine with holding her hand or her touching his shoulder, but she seriously doubted he'd be fine with someone holding him. It'd probably just make him feel trapped.

“Let's take a break,” she said. “Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”

“I'm-” Xesh started to say then closed his mouth and frowned deeper. “Can we just talk about something that has nothing to do with the Infinite Empire?”

“Sure,” Shae said. She looked around trying to think of a subject—she could easily talk for hours about, say, the spinal horns of uxibeasts and how it related to extranuclear inheritance, but that probably would be either horribly confusing or plain boring for Xesh. And then she glanced out of the window, at the blue cloudless sky. “How about we take a walk, too? I can show you... hm, there's a park people use for meditating.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Daegen took in the sight—there was Shae at the bottom of THAT tree. There was Xesh, sitting on one of the lower branches and fighting a losing battle against his frowning habit in a futile attempt to look innocent. And there was the tree of course—the one that he'd climbed when he was fourteen just like a number of other apprentices with too much free time on their hands.

“I see you decided to teach Xesh some of our finer traditions,” he said dryly. Heroically, he had managed to wrestle his urge to start rubbing his forehead.

Shae continued looking self-satisfied, as if she had not obviously encouraged Daegen's apprentice to steal his underwear and tie it to a tree. Young people these days. One could just not leave them to their own devices. “How could I not? It is one of our finer traditions.”

“Aren't you both too old for this particular game?” Daegen asked, not ready to give up just yet. Besides, while he might have caught them by accident, he was fairly certain that not getting caught was part of the game. Which meant that he was absolutely entitled to complain.

“I have backlog,” Xesh said, having apparently decided that trying to pretend he was just sitting in that particular tree for no reason related to juvenile pranks was futile. At least, he stopped trying to look innocent, and now moved on to looking smug, which apparently was much easier to do without frowning.

Besides, it was rather hard to argue with that.

“I suppose I can't dispute that,” he replied, shaking his head. “Now I suppose I should comply with the tradition and try to get my underwear down, shouldn't I?”

He looked up—and fine, maybe he was feigning some of his weariness, but not all of it. Clearly, climbing trees ridiculously high was something the boy had learned—to what purpose Daegen was not going to ask at this point, but he was definitely not to try and get to pretty much the top of the tree just for underwear.

Going by the colour, the two had actually found the piece he’d worn to seduce Hadiya. To be fair, it was exactly the type of underwear people used for this particular prank. That is to say, wearing it made one look more naked than not wearing anything at all.

He breathed out and reached out with the Force.

At least it was going to be a good exercise. And he knew the boy could tie things into complicated knots.

Truly, teaching was a joy.

  

* * *

 

 

Shae had to admit that Daegen had definitely learned how to act in an embarrassing situation well from Master Quan-Jang. Which was not to acknowledge that it was embarrassing at all and treat untying one's underwear with the Force as a perfectly normal occupation.

He didn't seem to pay attention to anyone, even when a Ranger stopped right next to him. He was a togorian: not as enormous as some of them, but he still towered over Daegen. 

“Oh. You really did get yourself an apprentice,” he said with a smirk. Out of the corner of her eye, Shae noticed Xesh was watching it with quite a lot of apprehension. “Should I offer condolences to him or you?”

“Neither,” Daegen and Xesh say at the same time, sounding equally offended. Then they glared at each other. Apparently, this was going to be a joint comedy performance now.

“I'm a perfect teacher,” Daegen said not bothering to look at the Ranger.

“Hm.” Xesh gave him a sceptical look and then clearly remembered he was supposed to be on Daegen's side, because he nodded.

“I certainly learned a lot from you,” the Ranger said with a grin that was looking a little too smug.

“Not maturity, I see,” Daegen replied. Then he turned to look at the togorian. It lasted a moment, and ended with him arching his eyebrows. “Or how to dress. Now, is that some sort of a clumsy attempt at flirting on your side or do you just enjoy basking in my superiority so much?”

Well, that seemed like it was going to be a comedy performance alright. Just with a new actor—who to be fair, was actually dressed perfectly sensibly in a black jacket and grey pants which did match his black-striped white fur. He did look a bit drab next to Daegen in his dark reds and rich browns.

Shae jumped and grabbed the branch Xesh was sitting on, so she could pull herself up and sit next to him.

“That's flirting?” Xesh whispered with the expression of someone watching uxibeast mating rituals.

“I wouldn't call it basking,” the Ranger said with a grin. “But I think we should discuss this in private. Catch up.”

“Yup,” Shae whispered back. “Very clumsy flirting of the 'I don't know how to pay compliments' kind.”

“I heard that,” Daegen said turning to look at her. “Was I not informed that I'm performing for your enjoyment?”

“Aren't you always performing, Master Lok?” Shae replied.

The Ranger opened his mouth, but failed to say anything, and instead covered his mouth with a gloved hand to stifle his laughter.

“I do not perform for children,” Daegen replied in his most haughty tone, and put a hand on the Ranger's back. “Come. We should catch up away from easily-amused children.” Then, after a split-second, he added, “Or grumpy ones.”

“I'm not grumpy,” Xesh grumbled. He sounded genuinely offended, too. Then, as they left, he turned to Shae, and asked, “Who was that?”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s a Ranger,” Shae explained, turning to look at him. “They’re peace-keepers. Not just on Tython but in the whole system—you have to spend five years as one to become a Master. It’s supposed to give you a perspective on how things work outside of Tython. But some people just stay Rangers, and some never join them.”

“Will you?” Xesh asked. He seemed to be both curious and worried.

“Maybe. I wasn’t planning to go for it until a few more years,” Shae said with a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone with Master Lok.”

  

* * *

 

Daegen’s quarters were not that far away from the park, fortunately. He and Acaadi had spent most of the way talking about meaningless things, with a few bits and pieces of news about old acquaintances strewn in between. Perhaps the conversation would have been more informative if the togorian had not been so amused.

In fact, Acaadi was still trying very hard not to laugh. It wasn’t working entirely, and the occasional snigger kept escaping him. Daegen bore it with as much stoicism as he could muster, which had never been much. Eye-rolling was so much more satisfying.

“Well, out with it,” he said after the tenth fit of sniggering. It would be pity if another one would endanger their drinks and the table would end up getting the tea.

“So how is teaching?” Acaadi asked showing all of his sharp teeth in a bright grin.

“Fine,” Daegen replied, refusing to be insulted by an implication that it should be anything else. “How is gallivanting between planets?”

Acaadi stopped chuckling then, his good mood rather effectively dampened “The Council asked me to bring news about the possible invasion to Shikaakwa, since I know the new despot.”

“Sounds reasonable, given that the outer system will also be affected by an invasion,” Daegen replied. “Who ended up taking Hadiya’s place?”

“Volnos Ryo,” Acaadi replied and grimaced. “You remember the Hawk? He’s his older brother—although fortunately not nearly close to being as nasty a piece of work as the Hawk is. He wasn’t happy about having to take up the title of despot, but with his father and older brother murdered, and the Hawk in exile, he was the best candidate.”

Daegen nodded. He did recall the Hawk—he had been a handsome one and strong in the Force, but he had also been rather full of himself, always ready to bring up something that would dismiss the experiences of others. At one point, he had tried to correct Daegen on something about neurotransmitters. They hadn’t spoken since.

And then, one day, he had been exiled to Bogan. Given that it had happened just as Hadiya had the old despot killed and started her warmongering that had been all he had ever learned.

“So how did the new baron take the news?” he asked.

“Given that Shikaakwa is further from the sun and likely is going to end up invaded before us, he took it remarkably well,” Acaadi replied and shrugged “Imagine telling the late, great Hadiya about it—she’d have used it as another reason for why she should be the over-lady of the whole system.”

Which was true enough, of course. “It’s such a pity about her,” Daegen said. “She had a brilliant mind. We could have used her charisma and strategic skills, once the time comes.”

Acaadi did not seem to share his mood, given his frown. “If you admire her so much, why didn't you try harder to change her mind? You managed to convince her you’re in love with her—if you did that, why couldn’t you get her to stand down? No deaths would have been necessary and the cleaning staff would not be cursing your name for the state of her bed-sheets.”

So it was going to be that time again, wasn’t it? Although, to be fair, he hadn’t needed to explain that to Acaadi so far. “Having me as a lover tickled her vanity. A Force-sensitive? One who prefers men? She convinced herself more than I did—she was so amazing, so special that of course I couldn’t have resisted her.

“Do you think a person like that could be convinced that they are wrong?” Daegen asked. He certainly had seen no way of doing so.

“I know,” Acaadi said after a moment of silence. “And her supporters would have freed her from any exile.”

“So what was that all about?” Daegen asked, feeling wary.

Acaadi hesitated. “I’m sorry—I had a run in with some loyalists back on Shikaakwa. It was unpleasant. More so for them than for me, but I guess I’m still not entirely over it. It’s been ten years and they still do not realize what a disaster she would have brought on them.”

“Come here,” Daegen said, as he sat down on his bed. “Stupidity is a depressing subject, and I’d rather do something that is absolutely not depressing now that you’re here.”

Acaadi grinned, as he rose. “Only if you wear that charming garment your apprentice stole.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Daegen answered as he grinned back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the obvious change is Hawk Ryo and his fate. I'm not going into why he's on Bogan and has been there, but it's related to the fact that once you realize that in the comic he's implied to have been abusive towards Rori Fenn... Well, I kind of didn't want him in the story afterwards.


	14. Where the Gossip Column Makes an Appearance in the Form of Vev

The newest escapee from the evil empire next door was surprisingly short, especially since she appeared to be a Dathomirian. On average, the women seemed range between Daegen’s height and Xesh’s, and so, for a moment, Daegen had wondered if perhaps the girl wasn’t yet fully grown. On the other hand, the boy had said she was older than he was, and even though he had no idea how old he was exactly, they did manage to establish he was probably between nineteen to twenty one years old.

She appeared to be alert and as soon as he and Xesh took their places slightly behind Quan-Jang she focused on Xesh, who in turn seemed to be rather uneasy, although not to a degree that would threaten windows and doors. Still, it appeared the Council did learn something from that accident, since the girl was not being asked to stand in the middle of the room.

The girl turned her attention to Daegen, and gave him the kind of look Xesh also tended to give others. Judging how to best take them out and if they were a threat, he supposed. Xesh moved closer to him then, and then slightly to the front.

The girl frowned and Daegen sensed confusion, irritation and then suspicion from her. She had not expected Xesh to be protective of anyone then?

“Right so—I'm not going to be anyone's,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. The suspicion was now blending into fear and hostility. “I ran away on my own, I told you what I know and I... I'll help you fight, but I'm not going to be anyone's attack dog. You can keep Xesh, if you want-”

The words poured out of her, chaotic and clearly spilling as fast as she could think of them. Daegen was not certain the girl truly meant what she had said, or if it had been a knee-jerk reaction of someone who knew no better, but given how Xesh tensed beside him that was going to be a _fun_ gathering.

“No one is planning to enslave you,” Ketu said, which was met with complete and utter disbelief.

“They don't have slaves here,” Xesh added. He even managed to keep his tone to something approaching civil.

The girl turned to look at him and then at Daegen, and- _ah-hah_. The boy was standing in a position where he could stop her if she had tried to attack Daegen—and she drew the conclusion which she was most familiar with. It seemed like she really couldn’t fathom Xesh could feel protective of another person and would choose to shield them of his own volition.

It did not appear like Xesh had any intention of moving away from where he was standing. It was a good thing Daegen was taller than him, he supposed, but then it also meant he'd be standing through the whole thing. And he'd even brought a chair with him.

The girl settled back, though her posture remained defensive.

“But who does the work nobody wants to?” she asked after a moment.

Daegen felt very virtuous then, having restrained himself from absolutely any comment and letting the Master of Knowledge say “Droids”.

The girl's expression fell into a dismayed immediately. Probably because she realized that she had been enslaved by grotesque-looking idiots. That probably would be a blow to anyone's self-esteem. Although, Xesh had taken that particular piece of news pretty stoically.

“Perhaps we can move on?” Ketu said, his voice deceptively placid. “Xesh—who is this woman? What can you tell us about her?”

Xesh glanced at Vev—he actually did not seem to be consciously avoiding eye-contact with her.

“Her- She's called Vev,” Xesh replied. “She is Dictator Skal'nas's Force Hound—my owner trained her along with me, and gave her as a gift, since he thought she's better at sensing-” He paused and seemed to be searching for a word, “People with the intention to betray.”

“And you, Vev, what can you tell us about Xesh?” Ketu turned to the woman.

“Well, he didn't say that he knew me before we were trained, because we were in the brood of Force sensitive children that Predor Tul'kar got,” she replied. “And I saved him.” That was followed by a quick glance—Daegen had the impression she wasn't exactly trying to remind Xesh he should feel indebted to her, but rather checking if he remembered that at all. “I mean-”

“Another slave would have killed me, she killed him,” Xesh cut in.

Vev then glared at him. “Don't interrupt, I'm talking.”

Xesh seemed to back away, although Daegen had the suspicion it was more because of the Council, rather than Vev.

“You know each other well, then?” Ketu asked turning to Xesh again.

“No,” Xesh said tersely. Speaking in front of an audience seemed to have this effect on him.  “We used to.”

There was a moment, when Daegen sensed some disappointment from Vev, like she had hoped for something different. Then, she raised her head and turned to Ketu. She seemed at a loss for words for a moment, though.

“It's not like we were ever allowed to catch up,” she said. Her voice had softened then for a moment.

“Would you like to?” Ketu asked.

Both Xesh and Vev fell silent, quite surprised at the suggestion. Vev mostly seemed to be puzzled, while Xesh seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Eventually, the young woman said, “How is that relevant to anything?”

“You can ask for armed guards to watch us, if it will make you feel like this is more of an appropriate situation,” Xesh said, having apparently reached the conclusion that Vev was not going to be making any choices. Or perhaps she'd make one he wasn't going to agree with. “We can try. What's the worst that can happen?”

Vev gave him a look of wide-eyed pity and said, in the tone of someone who was stating the obvious, “We could try to kill each other.”

That earned her Xesh's most grumpy glare.

  

* * *

 

 

Vev still wasn't sure what Xesh was exactly now, and what the natives had done to him to make him feel more like them in the Force. Not exactly, since he wasn't so eerily calm as they were, but maybe they never taught him that particular trick. Or maybe you had to be born there.

“So, did you run away too?” she asked, deciding to ignore Knight Noortje, titleless Sanaa and the tall human with a beard of whom Xesh was protective. “What happened to your master? Is he here?”

“No and I killed him,” Xesh said. “Then the ship crashed. I suppose we can count bits all over the crash site as being here?”

At first, Vev was taken aback. Xesh was not normally this communicative, but the last comment he made her giggle. “Easy to eat bite-sized pieces.”

Knight Noortje winced. Sanaa shuddered, while the man with the beard rolled his eyes. He was actually not bad looking, she thought. Kind of paler than Xesh, though not by much, with brown eyes and hair, and his features were sterner.

Then, the first thing Xesh said caught up with her brain. “Wait, why did you kill him, if you weren't running away?”

“I don't remember,” Xesh answered curtly and looked away from her.

“How do you forget something like that?” she asked, shifting so that she could look him in the eye. Really, if he thought he was going to get out of answering so easily, he was in for a surprise.

“You hit your head hard enough to get a concussion,” he answered, his posture shifting towards a more defensive one. Maybe it was time to leave the subject alone, after all. “Where is Dictator Skal'nas?”

“Agamar?” Vev said. “He should still be there.” But as soon as she spoke, she realized that Xesh was asking her not because he thought her master was in a different place— _it was strange that she was away from him at all_. “He should have sent one of the actual scout teams. I don't know why he didn't.”

“Probably prion diseases,” the tall man said. For some reason, he was looking very smug.

“Can we not talk about prion diseases?” Xesh said, half turning towards the man.

“Well, you can get out, while I inform your... colleague? about them,” the tall man said. “In fact we can go through the whole list of things it's best not to eat, regardless if one has experiences in eating them before and has definitely not gotten sick before.”

Knight Noortje seemed to be watching the tall man like some kind of a mythical creature, while Sanaa was making a face. Vev felt mostly puzzled—as far as she could sense, Xesh was more at ease now. Exactly why arguing with someone would make him feel better was something of a puzzle, especially since he wasn’t even getting angry.

“Um, I know not to eat poisonous things,” she said. She would have then asked about that disease her master was supposed to have—how did this man even know it? He'd never seen Dictator Skal'nas.

This was getting a little too confusing. 

 

* * *

 

 

Feral was a lovely specimen—large, with shiny sand-coloured scales that would have kept her camouflaged in the desert her species was native to. Normally, Shae would have loved watching her navigate a labyrinth, but today she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts.

She still made notes, but her mind kept turning towards the Council meeting. Was Xesh actually ready? The first time had been quite disastrous. Was she getting over-protective? After all, Daegen would be there—and while he was not what she would call traditionally supportive, he did seem to be getting the hang of it.

Slowly.

The truth was that Xesh needed more than her help. Except, first, he needed to get to the point where he’d be willing to trust other people. They were getting there, of that she was sure—but she wasn’t sure what would happen if he interacted with the other Force Hound.

They could easily lose at least some of their progress—she was certain enough that it wouldn’t be all, but-

There was a thunk, and Shae saw that Feral had placed a chunk of her prize for getting out of the labyrinth in front of her. She was now sitting on her haunches and giving Shae an expectant look.

“Oh no, dear, I can’t eat that,” she laughed despite herself. “I’d have to cook it.”

She stepped around the drool-covered, slightly dusty piece of meat and reached up to scratch the soft scales on Feral’s throat.

“You’re such a good girl,” she cooed.

Feral cooed back and bared her throat more. 

  

* * *

 

 

Vev still wasn’t sure what the tall man had wanted to accomplish before, but fortunately, it seemed like Xesh at least intended to go back to the actual subject.

“Why did Skal’nas send me and predor Tul'kar and no one else here first?” he asked, scowling. That at least hadn’t changed—it seemed that his default expression was still a frown.

“Oh, right, he wouldn't tell you, would he?” Vev said, as she recalled all the details. “See, First Concubine Ore'mun found out that the father of Third Wife Ceh'let's second brood was actually predor Tul'kar and not Dictator Skal'nas—and then Ceh'let sent me to kill Ore'mun but I didn't know why—anyway, Ceh'let also had evidence Tul'kar was plotting against my master, so he needed to get rid of him.”

Xesh's scowl remained quite thunderous. The tall man stared at her. Sanaa rubbed his lekku with a thoughtful expression.

“What?” Knight Noortje asked radiating confusion.

“Um.” Well, maybe Vev was not the best at the whole explaining thing. She shifted her weight from her left leg to the right one, as she tried to put things in order in her head. “So... my master has wives and concubines, and they all are trying to one up each other, so one of their brats is heir and all the others get eaten.”

“How are they not all dead yet?” the tall man asked, while staring at the ceiling with dismay. “Go on, don't mind me.”

“Sure—so, Ceh'let presented evidence to Dictator Skal'nas that predor Tul'kar was plotting against him,” Vev continued. “Except, it wasn't true—probably, he might have actually been plotting, but you'd have to ask Xesh about it—so, anyway, that was all lies, because she didn't want Skal'nas to know she had children with Tul'kar. And she got in a panic, because Ore'mun—a concubine—found out. Which is why she had me kill Ore'mun, but I didn't know that until later.”

“And why did you listen to her at all?” Xesh asked. As if he wouldn’t have done the same in her place.

Well, actually, he wouldn’t have been in her place, because his master was in the military and had only one wife. So, she supposed an explanation was in order after all.

“Well, Ceh'let said that my master thought Ore'mun was too expensive,” Vev said and shrugged. “He already did that once, so it sounded plausible enough.” She looked around, trying to figure out if she'd lost her audience somewhere again, but they were looking at her and not ceilings or walls, so they probably were still on track. “So, anyway, I found Ore'mun's data cache, after I killed her, but I didn't know if I should tell my master, because I kind of didn't do my job, right? I'm supposed to sense plots and deceit and here it turns out his wife is lying to everyone like it's a lying party of lyingness.”

“And that's why you ran?” Knight Noortje asked.

“Hm? No,” Vev said shaking her head. She wasn’t sure if she liked the idea of telling others, again, that she hadn’t thought of running away until so late, but on the other hand, Xesh had ended up free on accident. So, maybe, she wouldn’t look that stupid. “He sent me here. I mean, first he sent Tul'kar to either die or prove his loyalty. And then I gave him Ore'mun's evidence, and we lost Tul'kar's signal and he sent me here, to die or prove my loyalty, and I only figured out when I was on my way there could be a third option.”

“So neither of you actually thought about escaping earlier? At all?” Sanaa asked. It would have been nice, if he had refrained from doing that, really. Vev felt stupid enough about not escaping without people reminding her that it had been an option.

Or maybe, it had only been an option, because no one ever thought about it? Force-blind slaves were under much better guard and no one would trust any of them to go to a free planet on their own and not to escape.

“Before I was a Force Hound, and after Predor Tul'kar died,” Xesh said. He didn’t sound embarrassed about it. She thought she sensed anger from him, though. “I mean, after he died, I realized that I never thought about running away, even though there were times I could have.”

Vev hadn't really wondered if she could have ran away before she did, but now she started—surely-- but no, there actually had been moments like that. She remembered them existing, but at that given moment, she'd just start thinking about something else, like-

But surely they couldn't do it, could they?

And yet, if running away really was that easy, why hadn't anyone done this?

“Why doesn't anyone ever try running away?” she asked. “I don't mean regular slaves, but Force Hounds. I mean... when I think about it, I could have killed my master, and you did, right? So- so- why not do it much earlier?”

“What do you think?” the tall man asked. He felt like someone approaching a dangerous animal then—all caution and suspicion.

“I... don't know? It's not like- I mean, you can't just stop people from thinking certain things,” Vev said after a moment. At least, she hoped so. The alternative was not something she wanted to consider at all.

“It is possible to influence minds,” the tall man said, not even allowing her to harbour any illusions. “But usually not those of Force-sensitives and not for very long.” He examined her and then Xesh. “It has to be something simple—overlooking something, or performing one or two actions, most of the time.”

“Don't harm a specific person isn't complex,” Sanaa said, his lekku rubbing against each other.

The tall man looked at Xesh again, his expression very thoughtful. “How old were you more or less when your owner picked you?”

“Around ten,” Xesh replied after a moment of hesitation.

“We never tested this on children,” the man said, as he rubbed his beard. He appeared to be thoughtful now. “Perhaps, if this is done to someone who is still developing the effect can be more long-lasting. Though clearly not impossible to overcome.”

Vev wasn't sure this all made sense. It wasn't like she felt any... well, she just suddenly realized she could escape. And then, that she could have killed her master. That didn't sound like overcoming anything. Still, she had no better explanation.

“Um... maybe it just wore off?” she said. She really didn’t want to think that if not for some unknown factor, she’d have spent all her life following some sort of directive planted in her head. That for most of her life, even her thoughts hadn’t been her own. “I mean... there's been other Force Hounds who killed their masters. Not that they ever survive long after that—quantity is a quality of its own, Force or no Force.” She bit her lip. “And since they don't survive, we don't really know what happens later—maybe there's some fail-safe or there's backlash, and that's why Xesh can't remember stuff and not just the concussion? And I'm fine because my master wasn't there, so I had no one to lash out at.”

The tall man looked at her then. It felt kind of like she was some interesting insect to be dissected. Not malevolent, but cold, detached.

“That sounds plausible,” he said eventually. “Congratulations. You have a working brain.”

That was not the kind of comment that Vev knew how to handle. Was it a statement of fact? She had to have a working brain, otherwise, she'd be dead. That sounded a bit too much on the obvious side. So, was he making fun of her, maybe? Except he said what she said was plausible.

“Um, yes, I do,” she eventually said, deciding to treat it like a statement, in case the man got weirder if she disagreed.

The man's eyebrows went up, and--

Why was Xesh angry now? No, wait, not angry--jealous.

“Oh, wait, you were telling me I'm smart!” she said. And then instantly regretted it, because if her previous reply hadn't ruined that impression, she managed to do that now, didn't she?

“Somewhat prematurely, it seems,” the man answered dryly. “I suppose if one talks as much as you do, child, then just as a blind arva hen occasionally stumbles on a worm, so you will eventually say something smart.”

There were things Vev could have said, but she didn't. It could be a test. To see if she'd lose control when insulted, or maybe—well, it made sense, she supposed. She was not one of them, and it was logical that she'd be lower in rank than that man. So, he could insult her and if she talked back-

The man sighed. “And you, boy, really have no reason to be jealous. I've had enough trouble with getting you to approach the proper level of irreverence in an apprentice. I'm not going through the same with another one.”

Vev blinked in confusion. That was it? Well, she supposed it made some sense that Xesh would think she might replace him. If the tall man was not planning to take part in any battles, she would be more useful than him.

Except he said apprentice. They were both past the age for learning—anyone who took too long to learn was not going to be worth the expense of teaching them.

Nevertheless, this seemed to have satisfied Xesh.

And then, Vev's brain caught up with what the man had actually said. For a moment, she just turned over what she had heard in her head, but there was no other way to understand. She had been supposed to talk back. Why anyone would want that was beyond her.

“Perhaps... er... it's time for a break?” Sanaa suggested after a moment. “Lunch break?”

The tall man sighed heavily. Vev wondered if he was going to say no, but instead he rolled his eyes.

“Well, now that you've mentioned food, I doubt we'll get either of them to talk until they've gotten it,” he said somewhat testily.

“And yet, you're the one who's grouchy,” Xesh said. He was eyeing the door, though.

“I remain amazed by the fact that you can recognized such a mood in others, given that it's your natural state,” the tall man replied.

“That's the natural state of anyone who is dealing with you for more than ten minutes,” Xesh countered.

“How about we leave them and go eat?” Vev whispered to Knight Noortje, who was looking at the tall man and Xesh with an uncertain expression.


	15. Where We Learn the Dangers of Catching Up

The chamber was large and filled with tables. A counter separated what seemed to be a kitchen from the part with the tables. Aside from Daegen and Xesh, there was only a few others—all clustered over one table and engrossed in a game.

Xesh and Daegen had both retrieved trays with soup and some buns with a filling made of mushrooms, and took a spot on the other side of the room. Daegen also had tea on his. As soon as they were seated, Xesh turned his attention towards his food almost fully.

Even if so far experience dictated that no one on Tython would steal it or decide he had to give it back, he was not about to take risks just yet.

“I believe I need to retract what I've said about your skills as a conversationalist,” Daegen said. Xesh tried to remember what that had been, since he couldn't ask. Well, he probably could have, but that would involve talking with his mouth full and that was just wasting food. “You do possess at least one crucial skill when it comes to communicating—you know when to be quiet.”

By then, Xesh had swallowed what he'd been eating, and takes a moment to answer. “I'm not jealous.”

It was something of a blatant lie—well, it really was an obvious, huge, blatant lie, but that was not a conversation he was going to have. If he did, maybe Daegen would change his mind and pick Vev after all.

Daegen sighed. “You are.”

He really ought to have expected that. There was no point in lying if the person one was talking with could sense it. Well, it was too bad that he was eating again, then.

Daegen pinched the bridge of his nose. “You're not going to be reasonable, are you? I probably shouldn't have complimented you about your ability to be quiet.” He was starting to sound demonstratively patient in a very strained way, which was probably a sign that the conversation was not going to end up forgotten if Xesh kept being stubborn long enough.

“Don't you want a better apprentice, though?” he asked. “One that isn't too old to be learning anyway, and grouchy, and-”

He didn't get to finish, which was probably for the best. If he'd continued, he'd have definitely said something stupid.

“No,” Daegen said. “No, I don't want a 'better' apprentice. For one, I absolutely can't talk with children—and let's not even go into what most teenagers consider to be witty, shall we?” He paused, and took a sip of tea. “And you are not too old to learn. Generally, the only people too old to learn I know of are dead. As for your disposition, I'm sure you have some complaints about mine—it would be unfair of me to decide I should hold you to a higher standard than myself, wouldn't it?”

It all sounded really reasonable—maybe he really was worrying over nothing.

“Fine, I'll say it once—I do like you, boy,” Daegen said. Xesh actually looked up, startled. “You didn't know, did you? Don't answer that—we wouldn't be having this conversation—or well, I wouldn't be talking so much right now, if you had known.”

That... was definitely not what he thought he'd hear. Not that it wasn't nice to know—it was, because he really didn't think he was that likeable at all, but...

“We would—I don't see how that makes me a better apprentice than someone you think of as intelligent or- I don't know, whatever else you think is important,” he said.

“Well, we interact on a daily basis,” Daegen said. “I'd rather do that with someone I like.” He took another sip of his tea. “All that aside, apprentices aren't exactly toys—you don't pick one and trade them for a different one depending on your fancy. If someone decides that they're going to teach another person about the Force, then they make a commitment towards their apprentice that they ought to uphold, regardless of any new shiny opportunities.”

That sounded even stranger—it just didn't seem like that sort of things should apply to him. Not that he would have been able to say why that should only apply to others or... well, no, he could guess why he'd think that.

It never did matter before. He had been Tul'kar's Force Hound because he was strong in the Force and a capable fighter. True, if Tul'kar had decided he hated him, he would have killed him—but if he saw a better candidate, he would have gotten rid of Xesh regardless if he liked him or just tolerated him.

Except of course, he was no longer in the Infinite Empire and their rules didn't apply here. If they had, Daegen wouldn't have bothered keeping his word about giving him chocolate for getting things right—he definitely had found that annoying.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted that,” he said. Or well, muttered. It wasn't that he was bad at apologizing, but well, he wasn't apologizing to his master and he was feeling like a complete idiot.

At least he was an idiot who was not going to get traded for a better model.

“I’ll say this once—don’t get too used to it,” Daegen replied. Xesh looked up because he actually felt uncertain now. It was _weird_. “I didn’t give you any reason to think that you weren’t just a chore. Even after I realized that you think of yourself as of an asset rather as of a person. And for that, I apologize. You have nothing to feel sorry for.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Vev had stayed in the same room—Noortje and Sanaa had gone to get the food. She hadn’t liked waiting, but she had only thought that maybe she should have protested once they had left. Fortunately, they had not been gone long and had brought really nice food—noodles with pieces of meat and vegetables, and some sort of treats made from fruit.

“You know, no one is going to take that away from you,” Sanaa said, as Vev was cramming all the noodles into her mouth. “You can slow down—all things considered, it'd be a bit embarrassing if you'd choke on noodles.”

Vev stopped eating for a moment. Well, obviously, no one would take her food from her. She had a knife nearby. On the other hand, Knight Noortje was much bigger than Vev, and she and Sanaa were both Force-sensitive so they could just push it away before she grabbed it. Or snatch something from her plate.

“It would be, so I won't,” she said and stuffed another forkfull into her mouth. Besides, she couldn't be sure they'd keep giving her food this nice, once they were satisfied they learned all the could from her. She really should start planning ahead on convincing them that this wouldn't be the end of her usefulness.

There had to be a way, since they seemed to have taken Xesh in—maybe she should ask him? But she couldn't know if he'd tell her. So, first, she'd have to think a way of convincing Xesh to help her. Which probably meant making sure that the tall man wasn't too interested in her.

“Um, who was he?” she asked, and then, because Sanaa and Knight Noortje were giving her confused looks, clarified, “The tall man? With the gold things here,” she indicated her earlobes, “the one who's... um... annoying?”

“Daegen Lok, from the Temple of Science,” knight Noortje said. “I don't really know that much about him—he's... one of the possible candidates for the next Master of Science.”

That... had turned out to be even more confusing. “What science?”

Knight Noortje and Sanaa exchanged looks. “Are you asking about which sciences are practiced in the Temple of Science, or about Master Lok specifically?”

“Both,” Vev said. The more she knew, the better, after all.

“Well, for the Temple of Science as a whole, they do mathematics, physics, chemistry and derivatives of those,” Knight Noortje said, “biology and sub-disciplines. As for Master Lok, I've no clue.”

“Neuroscience,” Sanaa said.

Vev was still unsure what to think. Was Xesh's brain in any way special? Although, no, he was supposed to learn from that man. Which probably meant that he'd have to learn everything from scratch, because a Force Hound needed to know where a brain was and how to stab it, and not much else about them.

Clearly, she was not going to figure this out on her own. “So, why is he teaching Xesh?”

Knight Noortje shrugged and looked to Sanaa.

“Well, he didn't have an apprentice and I guess having had one looks good on your resume,” Sanaa eventually said. He didn't sound convinced though.

Vev wasn't sure why he found this unconvincing, but she supposed he'd know better being native and all. Perhaps, she'd just have to ask this Daegen Lok.

  

* * *

 

 

Somebody was bound to ask that question sooner or later—Daegen was aware of that. And naturally, the little bundle of tact and compassion in front of him did it with Xesh around, just after they managed to probably sort out the whole thing about Daegen not wanting another apprentice.

“Because I'm such a sparkling conversationalist and I have a winning personality,” Xesh said. Perhaps, they did sort the matter permanently after all.

Vev turned to look at him with an expression of someone who'd just been bitten by cotton candy. “I know for a fact you once managed to only say 'Yes, master' for a whole day. Once. That had been all you've said. Nothing else. At all.”

“I was saving up words because you keep stealing them from me,” Xesh replied.

The young woman stared at him, her expression going from shock to outrage and then she seemed to have caught Daegen's smirk, because she pointed at him accusingly.

“You did this! You made a bet with someone that you can make him more- more-” She threw up her hands in the air.

“Absolutely,” Daegen said, given that the idea was just outrageously silly. And he could feel Xesh's amusement at the situation. “That is exactly what happened, isn't it, Xesh?”

“Yes,” he said. Sometimes, the boy’s tendency to frown most of the time was very useful.

Vev stared at them for a while, until it seemed to dawn on her that neither of them was being serious. She started almost literally fuming then, and Daegen supposed it was time to at least make an attempt at defusing the situation.

“Out of all lesser Masters in the Temple of Science, I was the one with most experience without a an apprentice,” he said. “Therefore, the logical choice.”

“But why the Temple of Science?” Vev asked. “He's a fighter.”

“Which means we don't have to teach him how to fight, child,” Daegen replied patiently. That seemed to be at least a partially satisfying answer, although the young woman didn't appear to be entirely convinced.

“Just ask what you really want to know,” Xesh said. He seemed to be getting exasperated by now.

Vev hesitated, as if intending to protest, before deciding against it. “What are you planning to do with me?”

“Unless the Temple Masters decide otherwise, we will try to teach you how to use the Force correctly,” Daegen replied. Predictably, the young woman looked indignant.

“No,” she said. “Xesh may have let you- I don't know what you did with him, but he's weaker now. I can sense it. You're not doing it to me.”

Daegen wondered if this was the point when things would blow up. He felt a spike of anger from Xesh, just like when Master Rajivari had made the same observation, but it didn’t seem like the presumed insult would be enough to provoke him.

  

* * *

 

 

Their world was changing. True, the harbingers of change could have been more impressive, but one could not have all. In any case, neither of the children were of true importance. The Council might pretend that they were, but they all knew that the value they truly represented lay in the knowledge of the Infinite Empire and of the Force they had.

For all his flaws, Daegen Lok should have seen this. But it seemed that instead he chose to waste their opportunity and play saviour.

It was a pity. As it was a pity that Rajivari could not see any way of learning more about how the Force Hounds used the Force and making them into productive members of society. He was not a cruel man—but he saw that for the good of the whole, sometimes individuals needed to suffer.

And truly, even with all the help they could provide, it didn’t appear as if Xesh or Vev would ever be fully free from their past. Why not let them serve a greater goal?

Was it not all a sign that he had always been right? This Infinite Empire was a source of suffering, while Tython was an oasis of harmony. Surely, anyone that was not blind could see that with them ruling, there would be no Force Hounds.

Perhaps even one of them would agree. Pity that the more selfless one had forgone his old training. The girl would require a different approach.

He would wait and see what exactly he would have that would appeal to her at the end of the day. 

 

* * *

 

 

Vev could see that her last words were having an effect. It was not the effect she had hoped though—the tall man appeared to be clinically interested in her again, and Xesh only got angry.

“And what does being stronger give you?” Xesh asked. “It didn't free me. It didn't free any Force Hound—we're here now because of coincidence.”

“The weak _die_ ,” Vev snapped. “Have you forgotten?”

"Everything dies," Daegen pointed out mildly.

"All the more reason not to do it sooner than you have to," she insisted heatedly.

"Why?" asked the infuriating human. "Why do you fear dying?"

“It hurts, and once you're dead, there's nothing left- and everyone is afraid of it!” she answered, as confused as she was angry. “Aren't you?”

“No, not particularly,” Daegen answered. “The process itself might be unpleasant, but once I am dead, it will not matter, will it?” Which was just disgustingly reasonable, but Vev never got to say that was not the point, because he simply went on to the next point. “As for ceasing to exist—that is not entirely true. You should know it, child. I could give you examples of being remembered, of legacies and such—but that is not what you are afraid of, is it?”

Vev shook her head. That was—well, what would it matter if people remembered her or things she did, if she was dead?

“You will not be entirely gone, ever,” he said, sounding perfectly certain. “Nothing ever stops existing completely—it merely changes form. Eons ago, the matter from which your body was formed—from which the world where were born was formed—had been a newborn star. Matter becomes energy. And it's the same with your consciousness—once, it was part of the Force, and after you die, it will be so again.”

It almost did sound comforting. Like there really was nothing to be afraid of.

“How do you know?” she asked. “You're not dead.”

“Astute observation,” Daegen replied dryly. “I sensed it. Perhaps you paid no attention to it, because you were too per-occupied or too afraid.”

Vev could have tried arguing—but to be completely truthful, the subject was making her uncomfortable and the fact that Daegen seemed so unruffled by it was only making her even more uneasy.

“We moved from the subject—what if I don't want to learn from you?” she asked.

Daegen gave her a look that seemed to be all exasperation. “Then you will have to find a job. Consider what you can do carefully—you might not have noticed, but we don't need bodyguards all that much.”

He didn't have to sound like he thought she was absolutely useless save for this one thing.

“Maybe that's the only thing Xesh is good for, but I could...” she paused and frowned. What else _could_ she do?

“That's not all I'm good for,” Xesh replied, because some people had no respect for when others were trying to think. “I'm decorative too.”

“Yes, charming,” Daegen snorted. “Especially when you're trying to glare holes into someone's back.”

Vev was starting to wonder if this was some sort of a mysterious Force-thing or maybe a no less mysterious person-thing. You got two people, and something went 'click' and suddenly they were some sort of an obnoxious two-person act where what one said fuelled the other and on it went.

“Do you think you're funny?” she snapped in her frustration.

“That would mean I have a sense of humour,” Xesh said, perfectly serious. “Am I?” He then, of course, asked Daegen.

“I've been told my sense of humour should be banned,” Daegen replied.

“Yes, well, why isn't it?” Vev asked—or really her frustration did. She regretted it almost immediately. This _had_ to be a test of some sort. And she definitely should not have shown her frustration.

“I suppose others do find it amusing,” Daegen answered. “What do you think, Xesh?”

She had expected more of the same, but apparently either there was a limit to how long Xesh could manage being that irritating or there was something she was missing, since he said, “It’s a stupid thing to ban.”

The whole conversation had been nothing but an exercise in frustration—and that was when she realized why. Obviously, since she refused learning from them, she was denying them a form of control over her. So, this man was using the conversation with Xesh as a means of asserting that he was above her in status. And, possibly Xesh as well, given that he was clearly one of _them_ now.

Well, it was time to remind them how everything really looked like.

“My point still stands,” she said. “You're still weaker now, Xesh. I could have killed you many times over when we were children—I chose not to, because you were useful. It's the same now—I can kill you, but I don't want to. And I could kill this man too and you wouldn't be able to stop me. But I don't want to.”

“Perhaps you want to think about what you just said, and rephrase it?” Daegen Lok said, while rubbing his forehead in a very theatrical manner. He didn't sound impressed or cowed. Just weary.

“No, I said exactly what I meant to say,” she replied, although all of a sudden she was no longer feeling all that certain she did have a chance. Yes, Xesh felt _weaker_ but that was not the same as weak. And so far she had been not factoring Daegen Lok in her assessment—he had been giving her openings too many times to count as a danger... Unless it was intentional and-

And she had been meant to assume they were less dangerous than they really were. They were meant to seem weaker than they really were and she fell for it.

“I think we're done catching up,” Xesh said to Daegen Lok, and Vev knew she definitely had failed at _something_.


	16. Where Some People Find Peace and Others Trouble

It shouldn't have felt worse than being burned with a 'saber, but it did. _Useful_. Like some sort of a tool. And for a moment, he had thought that maybe at least before Tul'kar chose to train him there had been at least one person who did not see him as just that.

It would have been a lie to say he didn't regret not taking up her challenge. He did—his instincts were screaming that he should not seem weak, that he should rise to the challenge, that anyone who hurt him should be hurt back.

Except... That would only prove her right. Prove that the lie they'd been fed—that strength alone meant you had power. It was _so_ easy to disprove that. Hadn't he killed Tul'kar? He'd always been stronger, but had been as powerless as all the other slaves—Force blind or Force sensitive.

And Vev couldn't see it—she might have been repeating over and over that she ran away, that she was free, but she hadn't. Not really.

As long as she saw the world in terms of the weaker and the stronger, she'd never be free, never be more than what the Empire made her. And he was the last person who should be trying to make her realize that—it took nearly getting in a fight with Vev for him to fully understand all of it.

Or, once he thought about it, he probably still didn't have the whole picture, given how it all sometimes looked like he was trying to unbuild something, brick by brick and then whenever he thought he had gotten somewhere it turned out that either he missed some of the bricks or the building was much bigger then he had thought.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Daegen said dryly.

Xesh thought back to what Vev had said—that he'd been useful to her and that was why she'd never turned on him. He should have known. He really should have not expected anything else. “No. No, it couldn't have.”

He must have sounded angrier than he thought he did, because Daegen did not make any comments on the subject. Instead, he said, “There is still time before we will need to bring the relevant information to the Council, and the last time you were here, we couldn't exactly take you sight-seeing. If you'd like to, I could show you around. It might be less... frustrating than sitting here and watching the walls, as decorative as they are.”

It would also be a distraction from all that happened before, and he could tell that he needed that. Badly. If he stayed in one place, he’d just keep going back and back to feeling betrayed and angry—and what had that ever accomplished for him? Just more of the same.

And this place seemed already so different from the gunmetal grey space ships he had spent most of his life on, or even from the Temple of Science with white walls that seemed to serve as impromptu information boards. That was not to say that he'd only ever been in buildings that were _just_ functional, but Rakata had a tendency to build walls to either keep the weather out, captives in or use them as another surface on which to scream 'I'm rich'.

“Yes, I'd like to see more of this place,” he said. 

 

* * *

 

 

Akar Kesh was perhaps the most tranquil of all temples. It was for many reasons—the major one being that those who came to study there were usually past the age when yelling wildly and riding on a chair through the halls was attractive. Nevertheless, this was not the only reason; it was also part-garden, with plants being an integral part of the interior.

Daegen was aware that it required much work to keep in order, but apparently that in itself was a quite meditative occupation.

And it seemed that the general mood seemed to be having an effect on Xesh, who appeared to be significantly less angry now. He still didn't seem to be anywhere close to being at peace, but then Daegen doubted that would come easy. Even with the knowledge that the girl likely had not meant to cause the harm she did, Daegen wasn't sure how much he'd resent hearing what he heard from her had he and Xesh traded places.

Still, unless the girl had a sudden epiphany, there was little Daegen could do about her—she was not his concern for now, anyway.

Nevertheless, sheer probability dictated they would eventually meet someone. One of the gardeners was still at work—an old cathar woman, her fur a steely grey. Her tools were scattered at her side, aside from a little shovel, which she was using to flatten the ground around a miniature tree. Her ears twitched slightly as they approached and she turned to look at them slowly.

“Sight-seeing?” she asked in a voice that creaked like the joints of an old droid.

“Indeed,” Daegen answered. “That is probably one of the two safest bets, when it comes to unfamiliar people here, isn't it?”

“Ah, you're one of the mouthy ones that pretend nothing impresses them,” the woman answered, rising slowly.

Daegen sniffed, offended at being categorized so quickly and dismissively. “There are things I'm impressed with. Just not weeds.”

The woman did not appear to be impressed by his comment in turn, but neither did she seem to be insulted.

“You're Force blind,” Xesh said. Daegen caught him putting his hand over his mouth as soon as he spoke.

“Not everyone on Tython is Force sensitive,” the woman said. She looked at Xesh for a moment, evaluating what she was seeing, but whatever observations she made, she kept to herself. “Most of us are, but some, like me, are not.”

“And this is why you work here?” Xesh asked, demonstrating about as much tact as his friend had earlier.

“No, I work here because this is what I enjoy,” the woman replied unruffled.  “Perhaps you'd like to try yourself sometime? I occasionally teach others.”

“I... don't know,” Xesh replied. He seemed to be mostly taken aback and rather wrong footed. “I've never done anything with plants other than... um... eat them.”

“Then you’ve interacted with them more than I had when I started learning,” the Cathar woman said. As reassurances, it wasn’t as bad as some Daegen had heard. “I could give you one to take with you and practice. Just tell me when you leave, and I will drop it off before you head back.”

“I- don't- but I can't give anything to you,” Xesh replied after a moment.

“That's not necessary,” the woman answered with a dismissive shrug. “People tend to give others gifts when they move to another place, and plants are among the usual kind. And you only moved in recently, isn't it?”

Xesh nodded and then said quietly, “Thank you.”

It seemed like he was feeling a little to overwhelmed to deal with details such as introducing himself or saying when he'd leave, but then Daegen could demonstrate he was a civilized being and do that for him.

“We will leave tomorrow,” he said. “I am Daegen Lok of Anil Kesh and this is Xesh.”

“And I'm Anea Naharr,” the Cathar replied, nodding at them. “I'll bring something easy to care for in the evening.”

It had been a while since anyone had dismissed Daegen, but he did recognize it had just happened now. He certainly hadn't missed that happening, but on the other hand, getting contrary with a gardener would probably just look silly.

“That sounds perfect, doesn't it?” he asked Xesh, who nodded. “We'll be on our way then.”

“Enjoy yourselves,” Anea Naharr said, and turned back to her plants as they left. 

 

* * *

 

 

They had walked a significant distance—the Temples were really more cities than buildings, although each maintained its own specific character. They were still nowhere near having seen the entire thing, of course—that would take weeks.

Daegen doubted that Xesh was at all tired—the boy did seem to be nearly impossible to tire out, and they had been stopping at many interestingly planted weeds.

“How do you like it so far?” he asked.

Xesh looked away from one of the arrangements that either was breath-taking, or a waste of time. Daegen could never decide—on the one hand it was impressive that someone managed to not only build a tiny waterfall and managed to convince all those plants to grow that way, but on the on the other hand, that was time they could have used for something else.

“It's very peaceful here,” he said. “Is it always like that?”

“It tends to be whenever I visit,” Daegen said. “I suppose it's not possible that everyone in the temple agrees to act all calm and ghostly whenever there are guests, so I guess it is always like this here.”

Xesh nodded, and returned to watching the waterfall. He stood motionless for a while, and it was starting to become apparent he was thinking about something and not really seeing the water or the plants.

“You've only been teaching me about the Force, and how things work here,” he said eventually. “What... what will happen once you've decided I've learned all you have to teach?”

“That depends more on you than it does on me,” Daegen answered, as he started to look around for some place to sit down. “If you decide that you would like to help me, or Shae, or anyone else in their research—or start your own, then we will help you. If you decide that you want to, for example, join the Knights of Stav Kesh, then that is also a possibility. Or perhaps there is something else entirely that will appeal to you.”

“I... I don't think I want to fight anymore,” Xesh said after another moment. “But I don't know if I’m going to be good at anything else.”

He probably should have thought better before making that comment about there not being too many jobs for bodyguards. But, what was done could not be undone. That, however, would never mean that there were no options left.

“You're good at fighting because that's what you've been doing most of your life,” Daegen said, as leaned against the wall, having not seen any places where he could sit down. “The same holds true for most people here—if you are good at something, it's not because they just magically were born so, but because they practiced. Sometimes for years. You will just have to find something you will want to dedicate yourself to.

“There probably will be some things that you will not master, or be abysmal at, but that applies to everyone,” he continued. “It certainly doesn't mean that there is just one thing you can master during your life.

“Aside from all of this—there is more to a person than just being useful to others. You don't think of others that way, do you?”

He probably could have been more obvious, but he supposed it was time he did start demonstrating he did believe the boy could arrive at conclusion without hand holding and diagrams.

“No, I-... No,” Xesh said after another moment.

“There we go then,” Daegen said. “Now, I think we should start heading back towards the Council chamber. They might be a bit too insulted if we're late.” 

 

* * *

 

 

The room was nice. It was clean and there was simple furniture—a bed, a table and wardrobe. The wardrobe was mostly empty, only containing the undersuit for Vev's armour and the few lighter pieces of clothing she had for space travel. Knight Noortje told her that they'd give her more, and asked her if she liked any particular colour.

There was a bathroom too.

None of this changed that she was a prisoner. She could not leave without supervision, and would only receive visits from a select number of people.

Vev was still undecided whether this was an improvement over being a slave or not.

Of course, it was partially because she'd been _stupid_ , insulting people who she should have tried to keep on her side, but she still felt there was something unfair about this treatment. She hadn't _really_ meant to harm either Xesh or that Daegen Lok. It was just words.

And hadn't she brought them a warning and information? Surely, that ought to count for something.

As she pondered the unfairness of her situation, she sensed a strong presence in the Force behind the door. It hissed open, just as she moved into a position that would look natural but let her protect herself if necessary.

It was one of the Council-members—the pale bald human.

“That is not necessary,” he said. “Please sit down—I merely want to learn from you, and perhaps help you leave incarceration early.”

He smiled, and for a moment, Vev wondered if she was sensing deceit from him. But when she focused on the ephemeral feeling, it was not there—he was as calm like a statue.

“My name is Rajivari.”


	17. Where the Language of Flowers Is Not What One Would Expect

The plant seemed to have found its place in the half-shade—near to the window, but not directly in the sun. Before, it had stood on the table—for about three days. There had been a meticulous schedule lying next to it, and for those three days Xesh had adhered to it rigidly.

Now, he sat in front of the little plant—all green leaves with purple veins—and watched it with a focused expression.

Shae set down opposite to him and waited.

“I think- I think I can sense that it... I mean, it doesn't have a brain or anything close enough to a brain to prefer things,” he said after a while. “But it feels like it likes being here best.”

Shae reached out to the plant in the Force—and sensed the same she sensed from every other plant. That it was there, it was alive.

“Huh, I guess I'll have to trust you on this,” Shae said. She examined it just in case, but it appeared to be perfectly normal, and free of any insects that might have a rudimentary preference. “Is it just this plant, or can you tell with others?”

“I... don't know,” Xesh said. “I just noticed that today.” He hesitated and added, “Probably because I was paying attention to that one and not thinking of it as food or a nuisance.

“Well, we've plants outside,” Shae answered, grinning. “Let's find out?”

She was already getting up as she spoke and stretched out her hand to him without really thinking. It didn't occur to her that she should be surprised when he took it without pause until they were already on their way. 

 

* * *

 

 

The trees, grass and all the other plants had not changed at all since Xesh had last been. Well, no, they had grown some, since plants tend to do that all the time, but there had been no change in their inherent plantness.

They were all alive—that was easy enough. But that was not the point of what he was trying to do. It wasn't like picking up what someone was feeling, or even sensing a dangerous animal. There was nothing close to emotions, no sense of danger that came with an imminent attack.

He couldn't work his way from sensing a crowd to one particular individual. But he had been able to sense... things from one plant. So, logically, picking one plant ought to work.

After a moment, he picked the nearest tree and put his hand on it's trunk. At first, he just knew it was alive, and for a while it seemed like there was nothing else. He tried focusing harder—to no effect.

But then, that had not been how it had worked the first time, he realized. It was something more instinctive, that came with being centered and-

And then, it was there—an alien sense of utter peace that came with simply being.

“I think it will work with other plants,” he said, stepping away. “I can't do it with more than one—if there's nothing obvious standing out about them. I mean, other than some are big and some aren't.”

“Hm, maybe you should start with getting used to one plant at a time, before you can get to sensing stuff about a whole garden,” Shae said.

“Or sensing things about plants that go beyond living thing that's possibly food, possibly poisonous,” Xesh guessed. He thought for a moment, of what Daegen had told him. This was just the beginning, wasn't it? “I guess I will stay here for a while.”

Shae sat down with her back to one of the trees, and leaned against it. “Let’s see what happens then.”

Xesh looked at the grass, then at his undyed clothes. Sitting there was not exactly going to be an option. Which was going to be something of a problem, since he fully intended to come to the park more often now. He looked back to Shae, who was giving him a quizzical look.

“I think I’m going to need darker clothes,” he said. “How do I go about that?”

“Do you want to get them now, or do you want to stay here longer?” Shae asked, and put her hands on her knees.

The plants were not going away. Clothes probably weren't either, but he'd have to join up with Daegen in two hours. He could go back to the park on his own, after his teacher was done imparting great wisdom (or patting himself on his back, depending which part of his ego-cycle he was in), but Shae would be busy most of the day.

“Let’s get the clothes,” he said. 

 

* * *

 

 

The girl had a bit more social grace than Xesh, Rajivari decided. Which, taking the influence of Daegen Lok into account, meant that she was barely tolerable. Nevertheless, he wanted to learn from her, and that did not require him to like her. It only meant that he needed to explain what he did want from her and presented her with a bait that she would take.

“So, I just have to pretend to be learning from you, and you will be actually learning from me, and that's it?” she asked, brow furrowed in concentration.

“There's also the matter of not threatening others,” Rajivari said mildly. “It's generally seen as a faux-pas.”

“A what?” the girl asked.

“We don't do that,” Rajivari said dryly. Explaining niceties had not figured in his grand plan. “People tend to dislike being threatened.”

“It's not the point of it, though,” she protested. “I don't care if they like it or not—I'm just reminding them I'm stronger.”

“If you are truly stronger, I doubt they need reminding,” Rajivari countered and watched her bristle. It seemed like implying weakness was a sore point for both Vev and Xesh.

“Oh, whatever,” she grumbled. “Fine. I'll play nice.” Then, she gave him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to learn from me? You didn't learn from Xesh.”

“I've not had a chance,” Rajivari answered, deciding that for now truth would suit him best. “The Council deemed that since he was... responding positively to Shae Koda, he should be placed in the Temple of Science, where she is an apprentice.”

The girl's eyes went wide, and then narrowed again in suspicion. She didn't voice her thoughts though, and Rajivari was content to let her assume whatever she wanted. It was quite immaterial.

“Well, I can teach you,” she said. “But only once I know I can trust you to keep your word and you help me get free. Otherwise, no deal.”

“That is perfectly acceptable,” Rajivari replied. After all, he could simply learn by observing her. Or perhaps he could get her to slip and tell him more. He'd see. For now, he'd let her believe she could wait infinitely with teaching him. 

 

* * *

 

 

Vev had nothing to do. Well, her jailers had left her books she could read and such, and Rajivari came to instruct her and so on, but really none of that counted. She had tried thinking of ways out—maybe when they brought her the daily meals? She could use the fact that the door would be open and that the person who was entering would have a tray in their hands.

Still, there were at least two others waiting outside, whom she'd need to overpower. And then, she'd have to find her way out—her knowledge of the layout of the building was vague at best—she spent too long obediently imprisoned to fully remember her way in.

Or perhaps one of the walls was weaker and she could break it?

But then, she'd be facing the same problems as with plan A and debris from a broken wall.

So, all that she had left was taking a hostage or trusting Rajivari. For now, the latter seemed to be the better choice still—if she did take a hostage, she'd indicate very clearly she was looking for a fight, and there was only one of her. As soon as she killed the hostage, she'd be overwhelmed.

In the end, it had been an exercise in frustration rather than something that would alleviate boredom.

It wasn’t fair, she thought mutinously. She hadn’t intended to _really_ hurt anyone just to prove a point. After all, they had the advantage of numbers on her, so it would have been stupid. And even if she had—Daegen Lok was _annoying_. Knight Noortje and Sanaa had not liked him either.

Xesh seemed to, but that was another argument to actually hurt the annoying old jerk. He couldn’t just- just _steal_ people like that. And Xesh shouldn’t have sided with him. She knew him first.

She drew her knees to her chest and rested her head against them. Somehow, all of this sounded petulant and childish.

  

* * *

 

 

“You rely on strong emotions,” Rajivari said. It wasn't a question—there was absolutely no hesitation, no doubt that he was right. But then Vev had yet to really feel anything from him. Her initial impression remained—he felt like a statue. As calm and as cold.

But then, this was no great secret. The man would have easily noticed it when talking with Xesh, before whatever made him change happened. He could sense her now—why should she hide that she was irritated?

“Yes,” she answered. “The Force is like an animal—selfish. It will only give you morsels, unless you tear out what's yours. The stronger you feel, the more you can take for yourself.”

“Indeed?” Rajivari asked. “If that is the case, should I not be unable to, say, lift a speeder? And yet, I can do that easily.”

Vev shook her head. “No, that's not what I meant. If you only take what you are given, then you only have what you are given, right? So... maybe you can lift a speeder, but at one point you will reach a limit. And then what? What if you need to stop a falling transport instead?”

That was something basic—so instinctive she had trouble thinking of a suitable explanation. But surely, he'd see her point? After all, in the future, the Infinite Empire would come and then they would need power.

No speeches on becoming one with the Force, on nothing truly stopping to exist, could convince her that everyone, when faced with certain death wouldn't do anything not to die.

“I see,” Rajivari said. For the first time, there was something like a crack in his composure, and she sensed a brief flash of... disapproval? “That is quite different from what we learn.”

“You can dislike it as much as you like, but it's the truth,” she hissed. “All what you've learned—those are luxuries you will lose, unless you throw them away—my masters call themselves the Infinite Empire not just out of pride—there are countless worlds, countless slaves all working for their glory. And you've locked me here, and pamper Xesh—you could have a true Force Hound like me at your side, but you'd rather have a toothless pup?”

“Have patience,” Rajivari answered, calm once more. “As I told you before—if you curb your anger and pretend to accept my teachings, the others will eventually agree to free you.”

In that moment, she hated him more than anyone else in her life—she knew that for now she could do nothing but comply, that she needed him more than he needed her.

She'd kill him, she thought. She'd kill him for the insult. She was free, and anyone who thought they would be her master would pay.

  

* * *

 

 

As much as exploring his newfound skill seemed to occupy Xesh, it was not going to distract him from other matters forever. It was an educated guess, she had to admit, but since he was moping, she was fairly sure he wasn’t doing anything plant-related.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she sat down on the grass next to him. Their daily meetings had moved to the park now—not that she was complaining. It was actually something of a relief that he was willing to go outside on his own.

“What do you do when you’re really upset?” he asked, as he glanced at her. He turned his head away too quickly for her to catch his gaze. “When thinking about something is painful?”

“Well, usually, I’d find someone who’d hold me while I cry,” Shae replied, after a moment. “But I guess that’s not very helpful?”

It earned her a wry smile. “No, not really.” She felt his hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I… don’t think I know what to do. Before, I’d burn myself, and that’d help—I mean, it was a- a distraction?”

And this was a point when she had to tell herself very firmly that panicking would help no one. And if she panicked, if she said the wrong thing—she could undo so much so easily then.

“But then the burn would heal and whatever hurt you initially would be still on your mind?” Shae guessed. This was what she had been worried about recently—that they would reach a point where she’d have no help to offer.

“Yeah,” Xesh replied. “I thought- You asked me if Vev was my friend, and I said that at one point that was true. Turns out, it wasn’t. She only helped me because I was useful.”

Out of all the idiotic, hurtful things the horrible woman could have said, Shae thought. “She could have been lying,” she said. “I don’t think you were wrong the first time—you had to be good at sensing what others feel and their intentions from early on. So, if you thought she was your friend then, she probably was.”

“I’m sorry,” Xesh replied. “I whine like a little child because someone doesn’t like me anymore. It’s-“

“It’s fine,” Shae said. “There’s nothing wrong with you being upset about that—she was your friend, and now she hurt you.”

She felt him squeeze her hand again for a moment, and then he turned so that he was facing her again. “So, if I get to ask all the stupid questions—what do I do now?”

“Depends? If you mean about Vev – you don’t have to do anything,” Shae replies. “Or – if that’s an option – you can let her know that once she apologizes, she’s welcome to try getting the whole being a friend thing right again.”

Xesh nodded. “I mean… in general. I can’t just always keep going back to whine to you, and um… I think the other option is probably even worse..?”

“You’re welcome to whine at me anytime,” Shae replied with a crooked smile. “Generally, it’s expected that if you whine at someone, you have to listen to them whine, when they feel like it.” She brushed her fingers against his cheek. “As for the other option—definitely worse. I don’t want you to be hurt, so please, don’t do anything that would hurt yourself?”

He gave her helpless look then. “I’m not- That’s not exactly easy. I don’t know what else I can do and- and I need to do something other than just…”

“I think this is no longer something I can help you with,” Shae said, carefully choosing her words. “Some of the healers might though. Not all wounds are physical.”

Xesh frowned deeper. “You don’t mean healing in the sense of healing with the Force, do you? I don’t think that’d would work.”

Well, of all the things he could have focused on, that was the one she thought she’d have the least trouble with. “No, it’s not. It’s more like… I guess with you, it’d be helping you unlearn bad habits and replacing them with better ones.”

Xesh looked at her and then at his hands. He didn’t seem all that convinced to her.

“I mean—there are some things I can’t help you with. I haven’t been through anything close to what you’ve been through, so I don’t really understand what you feel sometimes,” she said. “The kind of person I’m talking about learns about how trauma affects how we think and feel.”

“I’ll try,” Xesh said after a moment. He fell silent for a moment, and then added. “And you helped much more than you can imagine.”


	18. Where Progress Proves to Be A Snowball

Daegen found his apprentice in the gardens. That seemed to have become something of a regular occurrence now. Unfortunately, it seemed that it also meant the risk of dealing with soil, mud and fertilizer on some occasions. Still, at least none of these would bite him, unlike some of the creatures—or really most creatures—Master Quan had handled during Daegen's own apprenticeship.

“How is your progress?” he asked, as he found a nice place to sit in the shade. It seemed that today was not a day for doing anything that required digging, so the danger of soil and such was significantly smaller than just two days ago.

“Slow,” Xesh said stretching his arms up until the joints popped. He did seem a lot more relaxed now. “But I think I'm getting better at meditating—I only spent fifteen minutes getting distracted the last few days.”

“Getting distracted happens to all of us,” Daegen answered. It was a pity that had not come up earlier, but if it had, he could address it. “In fact, sometimes the things that appear to be distracting you are things that you ought to pay attention to—one of the goals of meditating is to learn to know yourself better.”

“Yes, Shae told me that already,” Xesh said dryly. And then, in case Daegen hadn’t gotten the point he sighed. “I get distracted. By things like hunting animals or someone dropping something on their foot. Sudden emotions like anger or fear.”

“In that case, good job on making progress,” Dagen answered and dutifully rationed out a piece of chocolate. It disappeared nearly immediately, but by now Daegen was starting to think that the whole deal was actually quite reasonable.

Perhaps he should suggest it to Rajivari? If only to see his face.

“Are you feeling well?” Xesh asked, having finished the treat.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Daegen asked. This better not be what he thought it was going to be about.

“You’re being awfully nice,” Xesh said giving him one of his suspicious looks.

Daegen groaned. Really, what had he done to deserve this? Admittedly, he had been informed by several credible sources that his problems were nothing compared to twelve-year-old know-it-alls, who for example, decided to explore the Chasm and needed to be rescued by an expedition. Maybe next time he ought to get Master Quan to talk with Xesh, and then he'd learn to appreciate proper exploratory spirit in the young.

Rescue expeditions were _simple_.

“Are you actually complaining about it?” he asked.

“No,” Xesh said, giving him a surprised look. “I just-“

“You didn’t realize this is something I’ve heard a lot of times,” Daegen said, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Don’t do it again, and we can forget about it—or maybe not exactly forget,” he corrected himself, given that he quite certain Xesh would pick up the inconsistency.

The boy didn’t seem intent on answering. Instead, he sat picking on his sleeve for a while and then asked, “You never made a ‘saber. Shae did.”

“I did make one,” Daegen answered and shrugged. “I just leave it in my room here. Nothing will eat… me… here…”

Well, unless one of the carnivorous monstrosities Master Quan-Jang and little Shae were studying escaped. Just because it had never happened before, it didn’t mean it would never happen at all.

“Maybe I should keep it with me after all,” he said eventually. Then, he looked at Xesh, who was nodding, and added, “You never did ask for your weapon back.”

“I… didn’t think you’d give it back, at first,” Xesh replied and pulled his legs to his chest. “And now I don’t… know if I do want it back.”

“You don’t have to decide yet,” Daegen said.  

Xesh shook his head. “It’s not- The Infinite Empire will come eventually. I will need it then. And you will need something to protect yourself with.” He put his hands on his lap and balled them into fists tightly. “I shouldn’t be avoiding this. It’s partially my fault they will come—and… and I really can’t think of any way I could have- of anything I could have done to stop them, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t something.”

“Do you think that fighting on our side will balance this out?” Daegen asked, leaning forward slightly.

Guilt was a tricky thing. Sometimes, it was there for a reason—because a person truly did something they should regret. Or because it made them feel like they had some control over a situation that was traumatic.

“No.” Xesh shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, does it? The past is done. It can’t be changed. The people who I killed will stay dead no matter what I do.” He looked up at Daegen then. “I can’t change any of this, but I can do better now. And I am a good fighter, so I should do that.”

Then, his frown deepened, and he said, “But maybe I should build a new one. With the power vents. My old one tended to overheat after some time—that’s why they have us build them like that. You can turn it off if it starts overheating, so it doesn’t explode or melt, and bash someone with it.”

Daegen blinked. Had he heard that right? “I’m sorry what? Your… weapon can actually explode? While you’re holding it?”

Things like this really shouldn't have come as such a surprise when it came to the Infinite Empire, and yet here he was, completely taken aback.

“Only if I use it for a few hours without turning it off,” Xesh replied matter-of-factly. “I think I’ve only seen it happen once.”

“Tell me again, how did the Rakata ever invent space-flight without killing themselves?” Daegen asked. It seemed rather unfair, really. As if such monumental wastefulness and stupidity needed a reward.

Xesh snorted. “I think they just kept building ships until they stopped exploding.” He grinned for a moment, but his amusement faded as quickly as it came. “I never thought of this, but… They have a lot of children in one clutch. And they don’t really care if they survive. That’s not like most other sentient species, right?”

“None I would know,” Daegen replied, shifting to a different position. He scratched his beard. “In fact, probably one of the requirements to develop a society.”

For a moment, they both stared at each other. Then Xesh shook his head. “I… think I’m overthinking this.”

“Maybe write this down, just in case someone in the future has an opportunity to find out more,” Daegen said.

Still. There was something odd in play here. If only he had more pieces of the puzzle to work with… 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite everything, Vev still loved the idea of tricking her erstwhile master and that she was indispensable for that plan. For a brief moment, she toyed with the idea of refusing to do it, but quickly dismissed it.

Or well, Rajivari had told her it would be stupid, since she was trying to show she was cooperating, not that she was incapable of living in a society without attempting to sabotage everyone else around her. She still wasn't sure how it was her problem if others failed to give her the right motivation to help them, so that she wouldn't entertain ideas like that, but she knew she would have to comply to get what she wanted.

She quickly keyed in the code that would start an emergency transmission. The holorecorder flickered to life and bathed her in blue light.

“This place is extremely hostile,” she said, her tone as urgent as she could make it. She curled up somewhat, cradling her side. “I've not been able to locate any sentient Force-sensitives, but I've located the wreckage of Predor Tul'kar's ship. There were no survivors.”

Something large and heavy pounded against the ship's wall. Vev turned around and didn't even have to pretend to recoil when a huge clawed hand scraped against the armoured glass. It left cracks and white scratch-marks. Then, something pounded against the wall again.

“The animals are- are really dangerous,” she breathed and glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see lots of teeth. Why would anything need so many? “I saw signs of something snake-like and Predor Tul'kar's ship looked like something squeezed it into breaking and there's- things like the one outside.”

Then, there was the sound of metal being rent and the creature peered in. Vev threw herself to the side, only to be grabbed and pulled out of view. Then, the monstrosity dropped her and eyed the green-eyed woman—Shae Koda--expectantly.

“Good girl, Feral,” the woman cooed. “Very good girl.”

The monstrosity made a 'mmmrf' sound and pretty much laid down next to the woman, who then proceeded to scratch the skin just over its eye.

“Now, sweetie, let's play who can toss the ship furthest,” she added. “Come on. Throw!”

She pointed at the ship and the beast trotted over to heave and... well, not throw, but it did manage to topple it over. The beast made a noise that sounded disappointed and peered at the woman.

“Very nice,” Shae Koda cooed. “Good girl.” Then she looked at Vev and smiled at her. “You can scratch her a bit too. She's a real sweetie.”

The huge scaly thing eyed Vev then, in a way that made her wonder when it had last eaten. Her gut instinct told her to step back, but that would only tip the beast of that she was afraid, so she stood her ground.

“No, I'm perfectly fine here,” she said. “Away. From the teeth. There's a lot of teeth there, by the way. I think some of them are as big as my arm—I know my arms aren't that long, but that's still pretty long. For teeth.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you can tell Master Rajivari,” Shae Koda replied giving her a once-over. “Do you want me to tell Xesh you said hi or anything else?”

Vev gave her a confused look. “Why would I? I don't need him and he doesn't need me, and he hates me now.”

Shae Koda sighed. And she looked at Vev like she had just said something incredibly stupid. “You know, not every relationship between people is about being useful or useless.”

“Of course they are,” Vev answered. Really, why would anyone even claim otherwise? Surely, no one was stupid enough to fall for that kind of lie. “You keep me alive because I can tell you things about Rakata. That's it.”

“So can Xesh,” Shae Koda replied. Vev felt a jolt of fear than. That... actually was a fair point. Before she could list reasons why she was more useful, the other woman held out her hand to stop her. “Look—I'm not threatening you. I know it's going to be hard for you to believe, but think about it—if we were only interested in you as a tool, I would have ordered Feral to eat you. It would have made the message much more believable. But you're not a tool, and no matter what I think of your personality or choices, none of it would be any sort of excuse to kill you.”

That was definitely all wrong—except the part about the message being more believable if she had been actually eaten. But it couldn't just be that they would let her live because of some nebulous idea of 'wrong'. Still, Vev couldn't really think of a good reason.

Maybe the woman wanted something from Xesh and that’s why she was bringing him up? Except, she hadn’t asked Vev anything about him and seemed to think he’d be happy about hearing from Vev, which was stupid because he hated her now.

And none of that explained why the Council hadn’t just ordered this Shae to just have her beast eat Vev once the recording was started.

“Look, if you change your mind and decide you do want to talk with Xesh, you can ask Master Rajivari or anyone really to set up a call,” Shae Koda said.

It seemed that the conversation was over for now, which frankly was something of a relief. Vev really had no idea what to make of the whole thing, and puzzling it out looked like another exercise in frustration.

It wasn't that she wanted to be back, but- Was it really so much to ask for this world to behave in a way that made sense? She wasn’t asking for much—just maybe for people not to treat huge toothy monsters like pets and give her headaches by forcing her to figure out why no one was trying to have her killed.


	19. Where Apple Pie Brings Enlightenment, or Something Close Enough

The words sat under her skin like a thorn. There had to be some explanation, but she just couldn't think of any one that would not sound ridiculous. She was being spared just because, it seemed.

Oh, sure, Rajivari wanted things from her, but there was one of him. He wasn't even part of the Council thing. So, he might have been a factor, but in the end, if the others had decided against letting her live, he'd abandon her—she had no doubt that she was not the kind of prize one would stand against one's leaders.

Maybe... But no—she couldn't ask him. He made sense, but that meant she absolutely could not trust him. If she showed a lack of knowledge, he'd use it. Of that she was sure. It only made sense to use any weakness she'd show.

It definitely was an exercise in frustration—she knew she had no answer, and no one to turn to.

Clearly, she needed to find more allies—she had made the mistake of assuming that Rajivari was her ally because she understood his motives. Stupid. She should have realized that she was a tool to him—but...

Xesh was not an option—she was fairly sure of that. Although... Shae Koda had indicated that might not be completely the case. But he was separated from her and she had to find someone who was not Rajivari to contact Shae Koda to even indicate that some sort of alliance was possible.

Which meant that she needed allies here, and that meant convincing Rajivari that he should convince others that she should no longer be isolated. That was something she could work with. The things she did not understand could wait until she had someone, who would not use her lack of knowledge against her.

Really, once one had a plan—even as rudimentary as this one—everything seemed so much simpler. 

 

* * *

 

 

Noortje had not expected Vev to greet her that enthusiastically, although, apparently, she owed most of it to the fact that she brought cake with apples.

“It's all for me?” the young woman asked—and suddenly Noortje was wondering if she wasn't sixteen again. “I can eat it all?”

“Well, yes,” she said, as put down the box containing the cake on the table. “But maybe not all on one go?”

Vev nodded and wasted no time in grabbing a slice and stuffing it into her mouth. Some crumbs ended up on her cheeks and nose, as well as some of the apple, but not for long. Finally, she licked her hands and grinned at Noortje.

Then, she looked at the cake again, and her expression became puzzled. “But why are you giving it to me?”

That had not figured on the list of questions that Noortje had expected to be asked, so she had to take a moment to gather her thoughts. “It's... polite? I mean, you liked apples and I was coming to visit you, and bringing something to eat when you visit someone is a good idea, because that means they don't have to prepare all the food themselves.”

If she had expected that to be the end of the conversation, she had been deadly wrong. Vev's eyes went eyed and she gasped, “But I don't have any food to give you.”

“That's fine,” Noorje said. “I didn't tell you I was coming over, which is another good reason for bringing food – you don't have to worry about making anything. Well, if you want to share. You really don't have to.”

Vev eyed the cake for a while with a very undecided expression. Then, she reluctantly pushed it towards Noortje. “You can have one piece. If that's what you're supposed to do here.”

“Thank you,” Noortje said taking a slice. “Do you like it here?”

“No,” Vev said, frowning. “It's boring, I can't go anywhere and I don't understand why anyone does things the way they do here.”

Noortje was at least somewhat taken by surprise. Surely, Master Rajivari could explain such things? But... Well, perhaps he was being too cryptic? After all, Akar Kesh was mainly focused on philosophizing and inner discovery, which tended to require a specific mindset—Vev did not seem like the type to appreciate it.

So, perhaps, it would not be such a bad idea if Noortje helped.

“You could ask me,” she said.

Vev shifted somewhat, and seemed to think about it. Or perhaps about what she should ask.

“Well... You don't like how I feel in the Force, right?” she asked, as she sat down on one of the chairs. She put her feet on the edge and wrapped her arms around her knees. “And you can find out more or less the same things from Xesh that you can learn from me—I mean, I know more about politics, but I... I guess, he knows more about military and tactics, and all that—so, anyway, you don't really need me. Why are you keeping me alive?”

That had gone to things that Noortje did not feel prepared to explain pretty damn quickly. “Because... that would be evil? I mean, killing you just because you're inconvenient.”

She sat down opposite to the young woman, and put her hands on the table.

“How?” Vev asked sounding completely baffled by the idea. “I mean, I eat your food, I wear your clothes and you don't need my skills.”

Noortje felt like throttling someone then for a moment. There was just so much wrong in this one sentence, and the young woman didn't even seem to register that was absolutely, completely horrible.

“Because you're a person,” she said eventually. “You're not a tool. And that's aside from the fact that if I break a tool, I will look for a way to fix it, before throwing it out. But anyway—you think and you feel. And we're not running out of resources or anything—why should any of us think that we should kill you because you can't contribute right now?”

“Because I don't want to contribute,” Vev said without any hesitation at all. “And maybe you have enough now, but you might run out of resources.”

“Well... what do you think is worse—dying or giving someone food and clothes, and not getting anything back?” Noortje replied. She pushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Vev frowned. “Dying.”

“So, if that's worse, then why should we punish you with death?” Noortje said. “It means you will never get to change your mind.”

That made Vev go “oh”. “What if I never do?”

“Well, eventually, the Council might decide to send you to one of the moons—they have an atmosphere, and you can grow crops there, so you'll be given enough to get a start and live on your own,” Noortje said. “I mean, what would killing you accomplish? It also wouldn't make you change your mind.”

“But...” Vev said and fell silent. She stared at Noortje for a long moment, looking thoroughly puzzled. “So... You think what I think _matters_?”

“Why wouldn't it?” Noortje asked, now completely stumped. That had not been the reaction she was expecting at all.

“Because...” Vev frowned. “Because I'm not you? Or one of you?”

There was something she wasn't saying, but Noortje decided to let it go. She wasn't sure if trying to pry whatever it was would have a point and wouldn't just make the young woman feel threatened.

“That doesn't mean you're not a person,” Noortje replied. It all had seemed so logical to her—so natural, and yet, here was explaining truths that were supposed to be the very basics. Ones that you didn’t even need to think about, because they were self-evident. “Do you think that only what you think matters?”

“But that's different,” Vev protested. “You and your Council can decide things about me, so I have to be mindful. And my master could have killed me, or his wives and concubines could have framed me for something, and so on. So, I had to think about what they think in case it gets me in trouble.”

“And that's the only reason you can think for why what someone thinks would matter to you?” Noortje asked, horrified that Vev seemed to consider this normal and that this likely meant this was a common attitude where she had come from.

“Well... I guess if they could give me something, then I'd care,” she said after a moment.

“What if you like them?” Noortje asked, starting to feel somewhat helpless.

Vev blinked. “Well... I guess I would care about that too, because they might stop liking me. But your Council doesn't like me.” She blinked. “You... want me to like you?”

“Not exactly, but you're pretty close,” Noortje said. They were getting somewhere, it seemed, although where was a completely different question. “Generally, if somebody cares about your opinion, you will care for theirs as well. And the other way around—if they do not, then neither will you.”

Vev nodded slowly. “Oh, that... actually makes quite a lot of sense,” she said. “It's weird how no one in the Empire thought of that though, isn't it? I mean... it seems rather obvious when you put it like that, but my master and everyone else actually taught me that all anyone cares is their own things.”

Noortje gestured helplessly at that. She had no idea how to explain that either—it just seemed so self-defeating. Like it shouldn't work at all. “I'm afraid I can't help you here. I suppose there must be some benefit to it, but I just can't think how their society doesn't collapse because everyone keeps doing only what benefits them.”

Vev sighed. “I guess we won't figure it out then. But... um... thank you? For telling me all of this and for the cake. No one- Um... I think I might have gotten something sweet when I was a child, but aside from that, no one ever did that.”

“I'll bring you another one when I visit next time, then,” Noortje said.

Vev grinned at her then, white teeth flashing between pale lips. 

 

* * *

 

 

According to Daegen, the crystals had only recently caught their attention. It sounded rather odd, given that how they resonated with the Force. Perhaps it was just an extension of his earlier training—although, the last time he had gone looking for a focusing crystal, there had been no prior instructions.

He had been scared then: of the dark caves and whatever might live there, of slipping in the darkness and falling to his death, of getting lost and starving… He could probably still slip and fall, but someone would come to look for him, if he got lost or was too wounded to come back.

It wasn’t even so dark—the light from outside reflected from what he guessed were the crystals—not enough for the caves to be well-lit by a long shot, but enough for a human to see and navigate. Had it not been warm outside, he would be uncertain, if the little clusters of prisms weren’t simply ice. 

Last time, he kept worrying, he’d never find one—he couldn’t tell which one’s were the right ones and which were simple quartz. This time would be easier. He knew that if there was a crystal that was attuned to him, he would find it.

Besides, he could go back and just use the old one.

Xesh breathed out and tried to sense more than the static-like sensation the presence of so many crystals created. At first, there was nothing, but eventually, something like a stronger current tugged at his mind. A faint song—familiar in a way that resonated with the deepest parts of his mind.

He started making his way deeper into the caves, into the dark. The air grew colder and damper as he walked. Occasionally, something would echo—a rock falling, or something scraping against the rocks. He could sense the animals that still dwelled in the caves—small creatures that spent their life digging for food and doing little else, mostly.

The passage was growing narrower and narrower, and at a few points, Xesh’s shoulders had brushed against the walls. There were a few moments when he had duck to his knees and crawl too, until he finally reached another cave.

There were only a few crystals of possibly quartz, maybe kyber there, and the ground was split almost in the middle.

Naturally, life being what it was, Xesh was sensing a pull from the narrow chasm. He carefully peered down—he couldn’t see the bottom, but he could see a few more glittering specks. At least this time, it didn’t look like he’d have to kill something with far too many claws and teeth to get the stupid shiny rock.

And this time he had rope.

Not that climbing down in darkness was in any way easy—he probably could have asked for another person to come and help with the light, but it seemed a rather trivial thing to ask for help with.

Although, he actually hadn’t expected to really have to climb down that much.

He was making his way slowly, carefully searching for purchase until he put his hand exactly over the crystal he’d been looking for. It came away from the rock easily, like it had been waiting for him to pick it up.

Now he only had to climb back, in the dark-

Except, it was no longer so dark and he could sense someone approaching. 

 

* * *

 

 

That was probably like her parents and, later, Master Quan had felt at times, Shae thought. Here she was, wondering what to say and how to say it—because Xesh probably shouldn’t feel like he can’t go anywhere without her or Daegen hovering over him, but at the same time…

Climbing in a cave in the dark was not exactly the safest thing to do alone. He seemed perfectly fine when she helped him up and they had sat down at the edge of the chasm.

“You were worried about me,” he said and there was still an undercurrent of surprise there.

“We’re friends, right?” she said quickly. “And this isn’t the safest place on Tython. I’d be very upset if something happened to you—it’s not that I don’t think you can’t navigate a cave, but if you go climbing…”

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t want to take up more of your time,” he replied. “I already keep needing help and-“

“I’m not angry with you,” Shae said. “And I don’t mind helping—we’re-“ And then, it hit her. Why didn’t she think of it sooner? “Would you feel better about asking me to go somewhere dangerous with you if I adopted you into my family?”

That caught him completely off guard it seemed—she could sense how completely surprised he was—almost disbelieving.

“I- You don’t have to- to go that far to make me feel better,” he eventually said. That was definitely going to be more complicated than she expected.

“It’s not like that,” Shae said. “I care about you. If I know you’re safe, then I will feel better too. I never had any siblings, but I think I’d like to have you as my brother. But if you don’t want to, then I’ll still be your friend. That won’t change.”

It seemed to be the right thing to say, since Xesh reached out to touch her cheek. It was almost ghostly, only fingertips on her skin.

“And that will work the other way around too?” he asked. “You won’t be insulted if I want to be around when you’re doing something dangerous?”

“Of course I won’t be insulted,” she replied grinning brightly at him. “I’ll tell you beforehand. Deal?”

“Deal,” Xesh said. He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward so that their foreheads could touch.

Neither of them said anything later, but there really was no need for more words between them at that moment.


	20. Where Rajivari Explains How to Apologize Without Apologizing

Rajivari had had misgivings about letting Knight Eilidh visit—Vev was not going to fool anyone into thinking that she was remotely close to being capable of becoming a productive member of society at this point. As it turned out, there had been no need for him to worry about that at all. Knight Eilidh found an explanation that satisfied her all without Rajivari having to provide it to her.

Apparently, he was being too cryptic.

At first, he thought of simply ignoring the comment, but after considering it further, he decided against it. If Vev made no progress at all, someone would suggest she needed another teacher. The girl needed to remain in his control for them to be able to reap the most benefits.

True, there were others who’d see the wisdom of his approach, but that did not mean he could hope the Council would put Vev into the care of someone of like mind to his.

“How are you doing?” he asked, as he entered Vev’s room. She seemed to have been in the middle of eating cake, which she promptly proceeded to push to the side, as if hoping he’d not notice it. Rajivari watched her for a moment, and then tapped his cheek. “You have something on your face.”

The girl gave him a confused look, before wiping the crumbs with her thumb and licking them off.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“Please, do both of us a favour and do not attempt to lie,” Rajivari replied. “I can tell something is bothering you.” The girl seemed to grow only more nervous and suspicious. Clearly, an aggressive approach was not going to work. “I understand that you may have a hard time believing anyone, but I want you to succeed as much as you. Our interests are aligned, Vev, but I cannot help you, if you do not tell me what is wrong.”

The girl hesitated, but did not answer right away. Instead, she seemed to think about her answer, her eyes darting from Rajivari’s feet to her own, and then towards the window. Finally, she looked towards him again.

“I was thinking about something Shae Koda told me, when she was helping me record the message for my master,” she said. She hid her hands behind her back then, almost the picture of an apprentice called to answer. “She said that I could try talking with Xesh again—but I don't think it will work. He hates me now.”

Rajivari had not expected the issue to be this juvenile, but the girl was young and it seemed that her emotional maturity was lagging behind further than he expected.

“I would not be so hasty with conclusions,” he said careful to keep any judgement out of his tone. “Although, you are missing a few key facts.” He pulled the chair so that he could sit down and laced his hands on his lap. “Tell me, what did you notice about Shae Koda?”

“Well, she’s the same species as I am,” Vev said her brow knitting in a frown. “And likes this big monster. That was weird. It could probably eat her. Um… And she’s tall-“

“She wears her hair in braids—they look close to how your hair is done,” Rajivari said, deciding not to bother with waiting until the girl stumbled on the right details. “You’re a lot smaller than she is, but you are older than Xesh, correct? There was a point when you were taller than him.”

Vev nodded. “But what does that have to do with Xesh?”

“Your… friend trusted Shae Koda almost from the start,” Rajivari said. “Why do you think this was the case?”

That finally seem to click, and the girl made a little gasp. “Because she reminded him of me?”

“Precisely,” Rajivari replied. “All you need to do is give Xesh what he wants, and he will forget any harm you caused.”

Vev’s expression turned puzzled again. “Well, how should I know what he wants? He’s not here, so I can’t ask him, now can I?”

Rajivari told himself to be patient. It would eventually pay off. “He wants an apology. Admit you’ve hurt him and promise you won’t do it again, and your little problem will be gone.”

“But I only said the truth,” Vev groaned. “He should be thankful, not upset.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rajivari said. Well, if he needed to hold her hand until she understood, then so be it. “You can lie. Just make it convincing. And it is in your interest to make him and whoever else will be there when you apologize believe you. If you admit you did something wrong and seek resolution, it will be a sign that you are learning how to be part of our society. And we both want others to believe that, do we not?”

The girl watched him for a while, and eventually nodded. “So, what should I say?”

It probably was too much to hope for that she’d be able to compose a convincing apology on her own. Still, Rajivari did not know what had happened, so he couldn’t advise her right away. “That depends on what happened.”

The girl nodded, and closed her eyes for a moment. Rajivari steeled himself for the inevitable torrent of words, while she seemed to sort through her memories. 

 

* * *

 

 

The message sat unread on the datapad for a day. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know what was in it—it was more that he was afraid of what experience told him would be there. It was safer not to read it. The girl who had protected him as a child, the one who helped him survive, was gone or had never existed. Did he really need more proof of that?

Except… except, he had learned so much so quickly. Was it not possible that Vev was learning too? That maybe she had changed, that-

He was running in circles over a stupid message. If he continued without finding out what was in there, it would just continue to bother him—but at the same time- No.

Xesh picked up the datapad and decided to find Daegen Lok. He was supposed to have a lesson soon anyway, so his teacher could also read the bloody message and tell him if it was as bad as he thought. And if it was bad, the commentary would probably make it hurt less.

It was not the busiest time of the day, but the corridors were far from empty. A short zabrak woman ran past him, skidding and nearly falling as she tried to make a turn. She regained her balance and ran on—Xesh thought he recognized her. She seemed to run a lot.

The next few encounters were less hectic—people passed him, and those who seemed to be usually in this area of the temple nodded in greeting to him. By now, he just felt slightly weirded out—the first few times, when he’d been alone, he had frozen up because there was someone behind him and people treating him like another person was just completely foreign.

As he took the final turn, he walked past a familiar-looking grey-furred togorian—he had seen him leave Daegen’s room a few times earlier, and usually in a very good mood. Which he was now too, given the smug expression and the low purring. Xesh would have assumed the man was exaggerating, but what he picked up from his emotions pointed to him really being in that good a mood.

That he was really never going to understand.

“Ah, and here I was wondering if you'd be doing an impression of a stormcloud today,” Daegen commented as soon as Xesh entered.

“Vev wrote a message,” Xesh said and handed Daegen the datapad as an explanation. Daegen took the datapadand gave it a puzzled look. “Can you read it and tell me what’s in there?”

“I can, of course,” Daegen said. He studied the message for a moment. “It looks like an apology on the first glance.” He fell silent for another moment, and then added, “It reads like one too.”

That didn’t sound too bad. It sounded like what he wanted, which… probably meant that it was nothing like it. “What is she apologizing for?”

“For calling you weak and threatening to kill you,” Daegen replied. Then, he added, “Oh, how nice, she also apologizes for threatening to kill me.”

Being right really should be so unpleasant. She still didn’t get anything. He had pretty much told her that dividing people into weak and strong was nonsense. And she clearly hated being a slave, so why didn’t she seem to grasp that she practically told him she had never seen him as a person?

“Those are the things that are important to her at the moment,” Daegen said, putting the tablet away. “You can’t expect her to guess why you are upset.”

“Yes, well, you just did.” Somehow, that came out much more petulant than he had intended it to. Xesh felt his shoulders slump in defeat. “I know she doesn’t know. And that she can’t because we’ve been close as children and that we’ve changed. I just- I don’t know what to do other than be angry with her.”

Daegen motioned for him to sit down, so Xesh sunk to the floor. The older man joined him a moment later, after pulling a pillow for himself.

“This all depends on where you want to go with this,” Daegen said. His hands were resting on his knees, palms held upwards. “I wouldn’t recommend staying angry all the time, since it's rather draining, but it is an option.”

“I… can’t just stop though,” Xesh said. It’d have been easier if he’d just been angry, but it was all tangled up—the anger, and pain and disappointment. “She said I was a means to an end!”

There was something warm and wet on his cheeks—and really, he was crying about _this_? He wiped the tears away angrily, but that didn't do anything to melt the tight ball of confused feelings.

“Like I said,” Daegen replied calmly. “You can hold on to the anger. Or you can ask yourself why you are angry.”

“I just told you that!” Xesh snapped. “I know why I’m angry—how is that supposed to help me not be angry exactly?”

“Then please explain why what she said makes you so angry,” Daegen said in the same calm tone.

Not getting up and leaving was an effort, but… even if he was being obtuse right now, generally, Daegen had a point when he told him to do something.

“Because I’m not a thing,” he said after a moment. “She should know better—it clearly bothered her, why else would she have run away?”

“How would she know not to treat others like means?” Daegen asked. “Isn’t that what both you have been taught all your life?”

“I’m not giving her a free pass to keep on doing that,” Xesh said, though his anger was no longer running hot. Instead, he was starting to feel helpless and tired.

“I’m not telling you to,” Daegen answered. Which was nice of him, but it still wasn’t exactly helping. “But you can move on from the anger—you can accept that she is incapable of learning any better, or you can give her the benefit of the doubt. I can’t tell you which one is right.”

There was a step missing there. Xesh was quite certain that he couldn’t just jump from anger to acceptance. And he wasn’t really clear how that was not a free pass, in any case. “How exactly do I do that—accept that she’s incapable of changing, I mean? Isn’t it the same as saying that since she won’t change, I have to let her hurt me?”

“Good, you’re thinking now,” Daegen said and shifted to a different position. “Can you force her to change?”

Well, that one was actually easy to answer. “No,” Xesh said.

“Precisely,” Daegen replied. “You may be able to name reasons why you think she should behave or think differently, but if she refuses to listen, then you cannot force her to. Will your anger change anything?”

Xesh shook his head.

“There you have it, then,” Daegen said. “Now, to the next part—if you believe she will keep on hurting you, why would you want to associate with her?”

“But I don’t know if-“ Xesh started to say and then fell silent, realizing where his answer was heading. “Oh.”

Absent-mindedly, he picked at the loose sleeve of his shirt. The fabric was dark grey and thinner than what he’d wear when outside. The very edges of the sleeves had a geometric pattern embroidered in dark blue thread.

Daegen watched him in silence, while Xesh considered the answer he had been about to give. He didn’t know. How could he? The last time he and Vev had been close, when he had been certain of how she’s react, had been years ago. He didn’t know her anymore—how could he say if she’d be unable to change?

And it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have said something thoughtless just days after he had crashed on Tython—or even weeks. And even now, actually. Some things just seemed so self-evident, so obvious until someone else came along and picked them all apart.

“I will give her a chance,” he said after a moment. “If I am able to learn and change, so should she.”

“And what if she won’t?” Daegen asked still watching him inently.

“Then I will know that she won’t,” Xesh said. He let his hands rest on his knees, suddenly feeling no longer neither helpless nor angry. “And that whoever she was as a child is gone.”

Daegen watched him for another moment, and then asked, “And what if you talk with her and still don't know if she can change?”

Really, Xesh should have expected there was going to be a question lurking that he wouldn’t know how to answer. He looked at the floor, wondering what exactly that would change. “I can ask her if she wants to.”

“How reasonable,” Daegen commented, as he pulled out a bar of chocolate from the nearby table. “And you came up with that all on your own. I guess you do know what else you can do other than be angry.”

Well, he definitely was getting the hang of answering that type of comments. “Yes. I can be grumpy. Or mildly irritated. Or look like either while being neither, just to be annoying.”

“Now, now, I might have believed that at first, but I did see you smile on a few occasions,” Daegen replied, breaking off a piece of chocolate. He then handed it to Xesh. “And given that your face is still intact and you’re capable of making other expressions, I believe it wasn’t just a muscle spasm.”

“At least I don’t have to hide my face behind something that looks like something small and furry died on it,” Xesh replied, having eaten his treat. It was the one with bits of dried fruit in it.

“It doesn’t look like that anymore,” Daegen said. Then, he thought for a moment. “Shae took pictures, didn't she?”

“Wait, you mean there was a time when your beard really did look that bad?” Xesh asked. His imagination was clearly experiencing a failure, since he really couldn’t picture Daegen’s beard looking messy.

Daegen sighed. “I dearly hope she did not take any pictures,” he muttered. “Did I tell you about the vision I had ten years ago, and that I spent most of those ten years after the vision meditating in the desert?”

Xesh frowned. There was something… “Is that how you knew what the Rakata look like?”

“Yes,” Daegen replied. “We can talk about it later, I suppose. For now, suffice it to say, the Silent Desert lacks bathrooms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obvious change is obvious. I changed Xesh's name to something else because "tau" is a letter too and really, the poor guy should have a proper one. Also, since I'm changing things, I might as well give him some nice memories of what happened to him before the Rakata.


	21. Where Being Reasonable Plays an Important Role

Shae had a family. A rather scattered one, which was not all that uncommon. There was no point in staying in a temple unsuited to your skills, after all. Which meant that for now, they would just get a message she was adopting Xesh and she’d introduce him at some larger gathering, when it occurred.

They had been sitting at her work-table for a while now, filling out various forms. Shae had made a pot of tea, and put it nearby on a portable warmer, but it was nearly empty by now.

“We meet every few years, so you will eventually meet everyone,” she said. “But once we sort out the forms, that’s going to be basically it.” She examined her datapad and tapped one of the icons. “If you want to change your name—or well, pick a name, that would be good moment to, since you’re going to be officially registered under whatever we enter here.”

Xesh picked at his sleeve for a moment with a doubtful expression. “Won’t it be weird, though? Asking people to call me something else after they got used to calling me Xesh?”

“Not in your case,” Shae said. She reached out to squeeze his hand. “Most people will be able to guess why you’d decide to pick a new name.”

“I have a name, though,” Xesh said quietly. “I mean, an actual name, the one my parents gave me.” He bit his lip then, and appeared to be really uncomfortable.

“You mean you remembered what it was?” Shae asked. Xesh still didn’t meet her eyes when he shook his head.

“I never forgot what it was,” he said. He was looking at the table stubbornly and sounded utterly miserable. “I lied to you—I’m sorry. I didn’t know… It felt safer not to use it.”

“You didn’t know if you could really trust me when I asked?” Shae replied. “If that’s all, then it’s all right—I’m not mad at you. I don’t think I’d have been all that inclined to trust other people if I were in your position.” She tapped the field again and smiled. “So, what is your name?”

“It’s Tamid Rann,” Xesh said. He did finally look up and gave her a pale half-smile. “I’m not sure I won’t jump or something if you call me that.” He fell silent for a moment and then added, “The last time anyone called me that—I think it was my sister yelling at me to run. She died a moment later.”

No wonder he seemed hesitant about using it.

“You can still pick something completely new, if you can’t stand being called that,” Shae replied after a moment. “Or we can put this off until you’ve decided what you want. You don’t have to pick now.”

Xesh didn’t seem to be entirely convinced. “It’s just that- My name is the one link I have to where I came from. I don’t want to lose that.”

“There’s no rule you only get two names and that you can’t just keep the old ones in the middle, or at the end,” Shae replied, as she tapped her index finger against her chin. “You don’t have to decide right away—take your time and figure out what works best for you.”

“I’ll do that,” he replied solemnly.

Shae nodded.  “And slightly off topic, but I remembered I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time if Vev is dathomirian, like I am. She’s kind of short, but otherwise she looks like one of us.”

“You look like you’re the same species,” Xesh replied. “I think back when she was registered in Tul’kar’s log it did say she was dathomirian.”

“Is that why you were so quick to like me?” Shae asked. It wasn’t that she minded, but she was curious.

He started picking at his sleeve again and coloured slightly. “Kind of. You protected me. I didn’t thank you for that, did I?”

“I think dropping part of a cliff on the saarl was a pretty good expression of that sentiment,” Shae said. “But don’t do it again.” Still, since now she had the confirmation that Vev really was the same species as her, she had other questions she wanted to ask. “Anyway, did you meet anyone else from my species? Do you know where our homeworld is? Have you ever been there?”

To her disappointment, Xesh shook his head. “Vev might have been born there—she never told me if she was,” he said. “Maybe she knows more.”

Shae nodded. Given that Vev was in another temple, she wasn’t sure if she’d get a chance to ask her anytime soon, but then, she supposed she could live without knowing more a while longer. It wasn’t as if she had had anyone whom she could ask before Vev came to Tython.

“Then I will ask her when I have the opportunity,” Shae said. “And I’ll get myself some cookies for being very reasonable. Want some too?”

“I’m always reasonable,” Xesh said in his best matter-of-fact tone. “So, I always want cookies.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Vev wasn’t sure if she was feeling more like punching something or more like whining that she was stupid.

It was a fact that the only logical reason why she had helped Xesh was that he was useful. Except, she had resented being simply useful, hadn’t she? So even if it was the logical reason, she probably shouldn’t have reminded him of it.

And yet… It was logical. Was she supposed to just pretend it wasn’t? All the time she had spent on getting it into his head that nothing was for free, that he could only trust others as long as he could guess what kind of motives they had—was she really supposed to just accept that it was meant to be forgotten?

She chewed on her lip, as she re-read the message.

On the second thought, that was not the most annoying thing about it all. It was that Rajivari had been right. All she had to do was to come up with the right lie, and Xesh was practically telling her what she needed to do for the whole thing to have never happened.

It shouldn’t be this easy.

And yet… Xesh was still useful. He had been here longer. He understood the natives better than she did. And she could trust him—she knew what he wanted, didn’t she?

“So, what do I say?” she asked, looking up at Rajivari.

The old human’s face twitched in irritation. “Given what I’ve told you last time, what do you think you should say?”

“That I shouldn’t have said it, and that I’m sorry,” Vev sighed. “And I should say why I shouldn’t have said it. Um… And that’s because… because…” She frowned. Why was expressing the whole thing so complicated? “Because I wouldn’t like if someone had told me that.”

“Indeed,” Rajivari said. “I don’t suppose anyone would.”

And now he was being obvious. Of course, nobody liked it, but that’s how it was.

“Of course not!” she burst out. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not true. Everyone is a means to an end, and he should know it! If you help someone, you get something out of it.”

“Hm, would it help if you imagined your relations with others as a series of transactions?” Rajivari asked. “You help someone so that they may help you, correct? So, you both have something of value that you can exchange.”

That… didn’t sound all that strange, come to think of it. “But I still don’t see why he’s upset about it. Even if you look it at it like it’s trade, it just means he helped me because I was useful to him.”

“Perhaps because if you frame it like this, you remind him of his owner?” Rajivari said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who I presume, was getting much more out of him than he gave him.”

“So, I should say that I didn’t mean to say I only wanted a personal slave?” Vev asked. That sort of wasn’t true, in the sense that she wouldn’t mind having personal slaves. But she wouldn’t want Xesh to be her slave, so it was also sort of true.

“Indeed, you should,” Rajivari replied. “And you should avoid implying others are objects in the future, if you want to convince others that you are trying to fit in.” He leaned forward. “You can never know if you don’t have a weak side you’ve not noticed.”

“And it’s stupid to offend someone who may notice it,” Vev said. “And it’s smarter to assume that everyone can.”

That sounded like navigating a minefield, now that she thought about it.

Rajivari smiled as he leaned back. “Don’t look so dismayed. You grow used to it.”

For a moment, Vev thought she’d prefer being back in Skal’nas’s court where no one cared about what she had to say enough to listen, unless it was a warning.


	22. Where The Biggest Bookworm Makes an Appearance

Perhaps there was no such thing as true freedom, only more comfortable prisons. The Rakata had rules—rules for the masters, rules for the slaves. Many of them were something one learned by surviving and never spoken, but in the end, they were there, binding everyone with invisible chains.

On Tython, the rules were different, but in the end they bound everyone as strongly as in the Empire.

Order was a flawed thing in itself—if one element moved in a different direction, it would break down.

But there were ways of safeguarding things—that was why she was being isolated, after all. She was out of alignment with everyone else, a piece of a different puzzle.

She did not have to be. She could accept her place, pretend that there were no chains and maybe one day she’d even believe she was free.

She could resist, but what would be the point? She’d be on her own—Xesh either never found the truth she saw or chose not to see it, and Rajivari was only going to be her ally if she led him to what he wanted.

Wasn’t that a cheerful thought? She could make no choice that would free her.

Vev breathed out and stood up. She turned to the window—the peaks of the spire-like mountains were as breath-taking as they had been when she had first seen them. The universe didn’t care about her or her freedom, or her suffering.

  

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t exactly freedom, but Vev would take whatever she would get for now. And it seemed that the closest approximation of being free for now would be going on a walk with Rajivari. The old man was mostly silent, which really didn’t help, because the whole place was _boring_.

The only people they had passed had either simply nodded at Rajivari or had been busy poking at various plants. She could not fathom why anyone would care how some weed was growing, especially if one couldn’t even eat it. Which apparently was the case for most of it—she had asked Rajivari.

“Tell me, if you were decorating, how would you change this place?” Rajivari asked, nearly making her jump.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you clearly disapprove of the current décor,” he answered, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. Vev took in the… blandness. The walls were boring and painted in some unnoticeable colour. The floor was boring and wooden, with some geometric pattern emerging from the tiles—they probably were made from two different types of wood. There were windows looking out at boring-

No, the view was actually anything but boring. What looked like spires of rock jutted out, trees and bushes sprouting from their sides at odd angles. Some of them looked like green waterfalls.

She realized with a start that she was staring, and turned back to Rajivari trying to cover up just how flustered this made her.

“So, what if I do?” she asked. “It’s not like you will change it, just because I’d make the place more colourful.”

“That is called making small-talk,” Rajivari replied. “It helps if you know how to talk about meaningless things, in case you need to have a conversation with someone you don’t want to offend but fundamentally disagree with.”

Well… That made sense. Now that she thought about it, there had been situations when her master had engaged in this with someone else. And his wives and concubines mostly talked with one another like that.

“So, I’d make everything more colourful,” Vev said. “And maybe paint things on the walls. My master had this one… wall-painting-thing I really liked. Most others were just wars and battles and- Anyway, this one I liked looked like the paint was flowing up it, and it was all sorts of colours, really bright ones.”

Rajivari looked at her, his expression bland. “How interesting.”

“So… what would you change?” Vev asked.

She sensed something then—the tiniest of flickers beneath the cold stone. It was gone before she could be sure what it was, but she thought if felt like… No, she had no idea what it was. It had disappeared too soon.

“My time is over,” Rajivari said, his voice smooth like ice. “Ketu now makes the choices for Akar Kesh. I can show you pictures of what it looked like in my times.”

  

* * *

 

 

Xesh did—vaguely—remember the big man who had been in the canyon with Shae and Tasha, who wrote explicit romance, and then later with the Council when they had questioned him. It seemed that his memory was either being selective or he had not been paying attention.

Calling him big was actually an understatement--Sek’nos was huge. He had a good thirty centimeters of height over Xesh, with the massive horns atop his head only making him seem even bigger, and likely weighed twice as much. At least Xesh could claim concussion as an excuse for thinking that he had any chance of over-balancing someone that big.

His hand practically engulfed Xesh’s when he shook it, and he had to remind himself that people here didn’t break fingers for fun.

“I asked Sek’nos to see if there are mentions of other people who could use the Force to communicate with plants,” Shae said. “And he said that he found something.”

“So, I did some digging,” Sek’nos said, once they had been introduced. “Well, lots of digging—you owe me, Shae. Which reminds me, your parents told me to say hi, and that they want to meet Xesh,” Which is when Shae punched his arm – it wasn’t much of a punch, more like a bump. “Fine, fine, I’ll stick to the subject.

“It does get mentioned,” he continued. “In fact, there were two journals describing how someone tried to refine their skills there. And several other people made notes about the observations in the journals. I made copies for you.”

“Thank you?” Xesh said. It was rather weird having someone whom he didn’t know do something for him. “I’m not sure if I can do anything in return.”

“Well, since you mentioned it,” Sek’nos said, as he adjusted one of his head tails so that it was looped around his neck, “my grandmother wanted to know if you'd consider joining the Temple of Force Skills. You don’t have to answer right away—think about it.

“And in the meantime, if you want to, you can write your own journal and make your own notes,” Sek’nos added showing almost all of his teeth in a grin. It probably was meant to be friendly, but his teeth clearly belonged to a carnivore. “And let me read them, so I can ask you questions. It’s a pretty rare skill, so the more we learn from you the better.”

That seemed pretty reasonable as far as he could tell. “I can do this,” he said, and found himself the subject of another grin. “Do you want to start now?”

“How about we grab something to eat first?” Sek’nos asked. “We can make a list of things to check, actually. You’re probably going to have a different perspective on the whole thing—that reminds me that there was something I wanted to ask. One of the things you were trained to do was sense other living beings, right?

“That could be a threat, but yes,” Xesh said. “Plants aren’t exactly that, unless you eat a poisonous one or they fall on you, though.”

“So, for most of the time, you focused on sensing emotions that come with someone or something attacking—fear, hunger, anger?” Sek’nos continued.

“Yes,” Xesh replied. “If it’s not going to attack, it was irrelevant. I only recently- oh.” It seemed rather obvious now. “You think that if I were trained here, I’d have started sensing things from plants earlier.”

Sek’nos nodded. “Maybe you could already as a child—we won’t know, but I think this skill might be like healing. It just doesn’t work if you’re unbalanced. And since all that you were taught relied on keeping you unbalanced and focused on what others feel and how they might be dangerous, you really weren’t going to have a chance to actually find out this was something you can do.”

“I don’t think they’d see the use in it,” Xesh said. “And a slave is only as good as they are useful.”

“Idiots,” Sek’nos snorted.

“We keep coming back to this conclusion,” Shae said dryly. “I just can’t get over the fact that they somehow have an empire spanning over so many planets. How does a society built on back-stabbing keep functioning?”

“Well, you can’t just back-stab everyone,” Xesh said. “There are rules. Or well… more like guidelines. And there are alliances. Which change every week.”

“Maybe it’s like rolling a snowball down a slope? It gathers speed and keeps on rolling and gets bigger and by now it’s so big, it’s rolling over the trees and houses, and that metaphor just ran away from me,” Sek’nos replied. And grinned again. Still, Xesh was sort of getting used to the teeth by now.

“Happens to the best of us,” Shae said and hooked her arm with his. “So, how about we continue this conversation over food, like you said earlier?”

  

* * *

 

 

Despite everything, Rajivari could not help but feel some disappointment, when the girl failed to see any difference in the Temple’s décor back when he was its Master.

“I guess I see where this Ketu takes being boring from,” she pronounced. “Are all temples like this?”

“Perhaps Bodhi would be more to your liking,” Rajivari replied, careful to keep his tone bland. “They… experiment.”

The accursed creature grinned then and for a moment, even despite the tattoo covering her nose and part of her forehead, she managed to look almost no different than any girl her age raised on Tython. The impression lasted only as long as she didn’t open her mouth—the accent marked her out pretty definitely, just as it had Xesh.

“You make it sound like they’re doing something horrible,” she said. 

Rajivari did not like how all of the sudden the girl was acting all perceptive. For someone occasionally completely clueless about social norms, she was very quick to pick up any sort of negative inclination.

“Not horrible, no,” he said. The answer was a practiced, rehearsed one that he’d used a number of times over his lifetime. “Each Temple has its own purpose, and their aspect is reflected in how they look like as well. _This_ is a place of reflection, and so we do not seek distraction in our environment, but rather create a sense of serenity.

In contrast, those who study in Bodhi focus on outward expression of self through art. If you take Anil Kesh or Vur Tepe, you will find a more utilitarian approach to space.”

“So, if you’d be in charge of… Bodhi? you wouldn’t have made it all boring?” Vev asked. She sounded rather doubtful.

“No,” Rajivari replied. “I would not make it ‘all boring’.”

“Aaaand could you maybe take me there?” Vev asked, her voice and posture that of a hopeful schoolgirl.

“In time,” Rajivari replied. “Do well in the coming month, and we will see. Maybe I will take you somewhere.”

Vev flashed him another grin. It was good to know that there was one thing he could use to motivate her.


	23. Where Some Progress is Made

It had not been long since the last time the Council had met, and although that wasn’t unheard of, the previous times had all been crises. This time, one was still looming in the future.

Instead, they were yet again discussing the matter of Vev, as if the decision weren’t clear for anyone but the blind. There were other, more pressing matters than a chit of girl who might work with them or might not, despite Rajivari’s sudden attack of optimism. Miarta was far from sharing it—she had raised enough children and grandchildren to realize that apologizing was just the very basics.

“We can’t assume that what worked for Xesh will work for her,” Kora said stroking her lekku. How she did not scratch herself with those long nails was something that Miarta found forever perplexing. It seemed that the Master of Knowledge intended to also take the seat of the master of the obvious on this day. “We seem to have mostly gotten lucky with him.”

“I do not believe anyone intends to argue this,” Quan-Jang said. There was a distinct edge to the voice of the Master of Science—the kind of tone that indicated that others ought to get on with it. A sentiment Miarta shared.

“She is willing to be a part of our society,” Rajivari said, his hands laced in front of himself, doing his best to look venerable. “How can she learn how to be one if we keep her isolated?”

“I suppose we all agree that there is no risk of anyone accidentally contracting the Darkness in the Force?” Ketu asked. The Master of Philosophy was showing little of what he thought or felt, as usual. Occasionally, he would stroke or scratch his beard, but other than that he remained immobile, his hooded eyes watching the chamber placidly.

There was a murmur of agreement. At least it didn’t appear like anyone intended to prolong the meeting over that.

To Miarta’s surprise, Rajivari’s expression changed to that of someone who bit on something sour.

“We can probably also agree that Daegen Lok's theory is the likeliest explanation for how one catches it,” he said. That probably explained why he seemed so disgruntled, although Miarta found it tedious that he still bore a grudge over something that happened decades ago. Yes, being corrected by a teenage boy was embarrassing, but really. “Being exposed to some sort trauma as a child is the one thing we know that both Xesh and Vev have in common and both identified as a turning point for them.”

“They are not nearly enough of a sample to form any hypothesis,” Quan-Jang countered. “We should observe for now.”

Ketu nodded and turned back to Rajivari. “Do you wish to continue teaching her, Master? Or is she better suited for a different teacher?”

Rajivari ran his hand over his head, in a gesture that made Miarta wonder if he expected to find hair again. In her experience, if a male human lost it, then it did not tend to come back, but who knew. The Force worked in mysterious ways.

Still, if he changed his mind, this was the moment where he could divest himself of the burden of teaching. It didn’t seem likely that he’d do it, but the way Ketu said it made Miarta wonder if he’d rather Rajivari returned to full retirement.

“It’s too early for me to tell,” Rajivari eventually said. A stock non-answer, if Miarta had ever heard one.

“Then we will leave her under your tutelage, and any matters concerning reassigning teachers will be done through the usual channels, if it becomes necessary,” Ketu said, as he stroked his beard once more. “Her status as a prisoner is lifted.”

Rajivari nodded and moved back to the place by Ketu’s right side. The Master of Philosophy turned his attention to Kora, and asked, “Did you find anything in the archives that might help us?”

“I can name the year where the first mention of the Darkness was made,” Kora replied, her expression thoughtful. She straightened the folds of her long dress on her lap. “But no one seems to have paid enough attention to how it grew for us to be able to reach any conclusions.”

“Miarta?” Ketu turned his attention towards her, and so did most of the room.

She nodded. Her headdress clinked softly against her montrals. “There are a few possibilities we are studying, but all of them will require an effort on a tremendous scale from a large group to bring the effect we may wish. If they will work at all.”

“Tem?” Ketu asked the cathar Master of the Forge.

Tem shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m not happy about having to teach people how to build the sabers before we worked out the problem with the crystals overheating, but the additional venting seems to be doing its job. As for other possibilities—the factories on Nox offered to cooperate with us and build space mines.”

Miarta blinked. Tem sounded a bit too casual about it for her taste.

“That’s… great, but how many would we need and where would we put them?” Jaume Fenn said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Apparently, she was not the only person who found Tem’s attitude too casual. “Other than in space, I mean.”

Tem gave the Master of Arts a flat look and wrinkled his nose. “We ask Xesh and Vev where the ships are likeliest to appear.”

“Well, if they are kind enough to get blown up before getting anywhere, it’d certainly help,” Lha-Mi said. The Master of Martial Arts was leaning forward, one elbow leaning against his knee. “But in case they don’t, I’ve been sending the Knights most suited for teaching to other Temples to oversee training drills.”

Ketu nodded. “I believe this concludes the meeting. If any new matters arise, we will meet again. For now, we all have business to attend to.” 

 

* * *

 

 

It seemed that being away from Skal’nas’s court was changing Vev—back when she’d been at her master’s side, she’d stand immobile, like a monochrome statue. It was quite a stark contrast from when they had been children—and from how she acted now: constantly fidgeting and pacing around, like her body was too small to contain all the energy it had accumulated over the years of forced motionlessness.

Xesh supposed it was a good sign, but he'd have preferred not having to turn around every few minutes to keep track of her.

“So… I didn’t mean to say that you were my property,” she eventually said, and finally stopped pacing. “You’re not, and I didn’t think you were. Just…”

He could mostly sense how nervous she was, and it was throwing him off quite a bit—he couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but… He didn’t think she was. He had had so much trouble understanding all of this and it sometimes still seemed like it shouldn’t apply to himself—she probably had the same problems.

“It’s fine,” he said. “You were angry, I was being annoying, and you said something you shouldn’t have. That about right?”

Vev finally did stop pacing and nodded. He could sense relief from her now. “Yeah, I’m… um… sorry?”

He probably ought to do something, like give her a hug or at least squeeze her shoulder, but the first option made his skin crawl and the second just didn’t seem quite natural. Not like with Shae.

“It’s fine,” he eventually repeated, while rubbing his wrist.

Vev kicked the ground, digging a little hole...before he had the time to get properly irritated, she said, “You’ve new clothes. And they’re all dark again.”

There was a disapproving edge to her tone, and he tried very hard not to get immediately defensive. “I’m going to get dirty, so I might as well wear something where it doesn’t show so badly.”

“Shae Koda wears the almost same colours,” Vev said. She was starting to sound like there was some hidden meaning behind it, which… well, there was a meaning behind it but it was about as hidden as something that was not particularly good at hiding.

“She adopted me,” he said, and despite his efforts he still ended up sounding too defensive, like he needed to have an excuse the wear anything that he picked.

“Oh.” Vev sort of flinched and looked away. Then she looked back at him, and said, “You’re happy about that. I thought- um… well, never mind about that.”

“Are you- are you jealous?” he asked.

“What? No, no, I don’t want a family!” Vev said quickly, her expression turning into a frown. “I’m fine the way I am.”

That was not exactly what he had wanted to know, but suddenly he wasn’t so sure if he wanted to know the answer. Maybe, it was a better idea to find a safer, neutral subject and keep away from things like hopes and expectations, and wishes.

“Anyway,” he said, trying to think of something like that, “how do you like it here?” 

 

* * *

 

 

It had not been a full month since they had talked about it during the walk through the Temple of Philosophy, but Vev did manage to convince Rajivari to show her the Temple of Arts. She was a bit suspicious that it went so easily, in fact—she only mentioned it a few times and didn’t actually have to bargain with anything.

Maybe he was going to use it at some later point, but that’d be later, for future Vev to worry about. For now, she was in a completely different place, and a difference was staggering. Where Akar Kesh was a towering structure, Bodhi sprawled over the landscape like a lazy lizard in the sun. And it was eye-catching—where the Temple of Philosophy was shades of brown, green and grey and blended into the landscape, the Temple of Arts was bright red and opalescent white mixed with ivory.

And there were people there.

Of course, there were people in Akar Kesh too, but they were mostly boring people. The kind of people who poked at weeds, or read stuff with a constipated expression or talked about things nobody cared about.

But here… Here she had been standing for twenty minutes watching a twi’lek woman paint a half-naked human man. A muscular dark-skinned man with long hair done into a mane of dreadlocks.. That she could absolutely appreciate as a means of spending one’s time or something that ought to be painted.

Eventually, the woman turned around and looked at her. At first, her expression seemed to be irritated, but then it changed to being thoughtful.

“Would you like me to paint you?” she eventually asked.

Vev hadn’t really been expecting that sort of reaction at all. It was better than being told to go, sure, but… “Yes, well, maybe, but I’m not really… um… interesting?”

“I wouldn’t be asking you, if I thought that,” the woman answered. “But if you feel uncomfortable, I won’t-“

“Jatzikar, leave her alone,” the man said, trying very hard not to laugh. “Let her eat the eye-candy in peace.”

Then, he winked at Vev. Clearly, it was some sort of challenge, so she stood straighter—Jatzikar wasn’t all that much taller than she was, so it at least helped a bit—and said, “I’m not uncomfortable at all. So, what am I supposed to do?”

She still glanced behind herself, and met Rajivari’s gaze. The old man seemed to be amused to her, his hand covering his mouth. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “Enjoy yourself.”

For a moment, she thought there was something else there behind the amusement, but the dark-skinned man asked her what her name was, and she really didn’t have all that many opportunities to talk with people with nice chests to waste them on thinking about decrepit old men.


	24. Where Rajivari Decides that He Is too Proud to Fall

There was more to how Vev, and presumably the rakata, used the Force than ‘taking more than she was given’ and using strong emotions. If that had been it, someone on Tython would have already mastered it. Still, finding out what exactly was the key was not going to be easy. Rajivari still remembered what had happened when they tried to talk with Xesh about it during the Council meeting just after he had crashed on Tython.

He looked out of the window, and then back to the young woman, who was starting to fidget as she made a rather pitiful attempt at meditating.

“That’s enough,” Rajivari said. The girl opened her eyes immediately and he could sense easily just how relieved she was. She started getting up, but Rajivari held out his hand to stop her. “I’ve still questions for you. But first, would you like something to eat or drink?”

If she was calm, there was less risk of her blowing his windows and doors out, after all.

“Both,” the young woman said. “What do you have? Can I have cookies? You’re actually not bad at making them—I thought they’d turn sour from how you disapprove of everything, so that’s kind of weird.”

Rajivari exhaled through his nose, telling himself to stay calm. “Thank you. I do have cookies and yes, you can have some.”

He could sense that she was growing suspicious now, despite his efforts to keep her at ease. Well, maybe if he gave her a moment and the damned treat she’d forget about it. He went to retrieve a plate and two mugs, before setting a kettle of water to boil. As it grew hotter, he crushed some dry leaves into a jug, then added a generous spoonful of honey.

The things he did for knowledge.

In the time it took him to prepare everything, Vev had managed to move to the window and was now staring out. She was leaning against the windowsill, her forehead almost pressed to the glass, but turned around as soon as she heard the plates click against the table.

“So, what do you want?” she asked and grabbed the first cookie.

Rajivari sat down again, and poured himself some tea. “When we first questioned Xesh, we asked him about the Force—specifically if he had ever used it differently and when his connection to it had changed. The latter question… he did not take well.”

Vev put the cookie down. “And now you want to know why?”

“Among other things, yes,” Rajivari said. “I want to know what happened.”

The girl fell silent, and he could sense her unease. More than unease—fear. She swallowed, but eventually looked up at him again.

“The rakata power their ships with the Force—they have machines that steal it from others. It kills you though. Slowly.” She pulled her arms around herself as if cold of a sudden. “So- you either do everything you can to survive and break free, or die.”

“And how do you break free?” Rajivari asked with morbid curiosity. If those machines could drain the Force from a living being, how exactly could you free yourself before dying?

Vev curled up tighter than and when she answered, her voice was toneless. “I told you. You have to take what you can to survive. There are others around you, connected to the same machine. They will die anyway, so…”

“So you took enough of their power to break free,” Rajivari finished. It made a twisted kind of sense, he supposed. “Did you kill those you took power from?”

“They were going to die anyway,” Vev repeated.

 “It’s a yes or no question, Vev,” Rajivari answered. “If you believe you did the right thing, then you have no reason to avoid answering directly. And if you think it was wrong, avoiding the question won't undo it.”

“Yes, fine, I did,” Vev snapped. “It’s not like I had any other option. I didn’t want to die.”

“And then the rakata picked you as a Force Hound and trained you?” Rajivari asked, brushing her anger aside. She could be as petulant as she wanted about it now, but admitting the truth would eventually strengthen her.

Vev nodded wordlessly.

The idea of sacrificing others for your own survival was not new to him—sometimes, if you were fighting a wild beast, you had to defend yourself and let others die, so that you might live. But this? This was something different still.

He thought back to the moment when Xesh had panicked, of what he had sensed from the boy—fear mostly. Raw emotion—his outburst had been a wild flare of power, uncontrolled and violent.

“How often does that happen?” he asked.

“Not very often,” Vev replied, puzzled about his question. “Most just die.”

“Why do they die?” he asked.

The girl bit her lower lip, her fingers curling into fists, as she gripped the hem of her red shirt. “It’s… different for everyone I guess. Some were relieved the pain would end soon and didn’t even want to fight. And others didn’t want to do what it takes—they were afraid of making the final step, of- of making others suffer for their sake.”

Rajivari stroked his chin, as he tried to fit the pieces in his mind. Normally, he had no use for visions and dreams, but the memory of one of Lok’s reports came back to him. What had the boy said? _It's hungry, but if you feed it bits of yourself, it will leave you alone. But then you're missing more and more of yourself, so you take the dark and try to replace what you've lost. And after some time, someone opens the door, and you realize that the darkness is the monster and you're a part of it now._

That was not _just_ fear, nor was it _just_ the will to survive. Anyone would fight for their life.

“And once you did this, you changed?” Rajivari asked.

“Everyone does,” Vev replied. She curled up again, even more miserable now. Self-reflection could be unpleasant, after all, especially if one had been avoiding it for a long time. “It just makes sense? I mean, once you realize that everyone is out for themselves, than why would you care if others die?”

“But you said it yourself,” Rajivari replied, “some of those who died didn't want others to suffer for their sake, even if it meant dying.”

The girl fell silent there, her presence in the Force suddenly changing—she was still subdued and upset, but the only way Rajivari could describe it was that it had suddenly become warmer.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she said quietly.

Rajivari got up, alarmed at the words. True, it didn't seem like she was about to do anything drastic, but the words didn’t sound promising. It was best not the take chances.

“What is it that you can’t do anymore?” he asked cautiously.

“Not care about anything as long as I stay alive,” the girl said in the same quite voice. “It’s all been a lie.”

Rajivari’s first instinct was to ask further, but he hesitated. No, that would serve no purpose—the girl would just shut down completely. Questions could wait. He had enough to think about already as it was.

He put his hand on her arm, as he sat down next to her, letting compassion surface for the first time in years.

“Shh, child,” he said. “It’s all right.”

  

* * *

 

 

The park was mostly deserted in the evenings, but that was probably for the best right now. He had been putting it off for a while now, but ever since he had mentioned his sister to Shae, he kept feeling like there was something he needed to do.

He just hadn’t known what it was exactly.

He still didn’t, come to think of it. But he had an idea how he could find out.

Shae sat down opposite to him, frowning slightly. “Just tell me if you want to stop, OK?”

He nodded. “I think we should be fine. I…” He hesitated. “It will sound weird—but that’s… not really the worst thing I remember, now that I think about it.” He wasn’t sure if he could explain why that was the case very well – it was all vague impressions like that it had something to do with choice.

Shae waited a moment, probably in case he wanted to continue, but eventually, she said, “All right, so—let’s start with basics. Do you remember her name?”

 

 

 

_“Amaya!” The woman’s voice was tinged with irritation. “We’re going to be late! Hurry up!”_

_“I can’t find my shirt!” Amaya yelled back._

_Tamid found the whole thing tedious. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay and-_ he didn’t really remember what he had wanted to do instead. _“Put a different one on,” he said and looked up at the older woman._ He could barely remember anything about her—just that she had seemed giant. _“She has a million. And stands around in them, and looks in the mirror and makes faces-”_

_“Why did I ever say I want a little brother?!” Amaya yelled back, as she came running. The shirt she had on was blue with long flowing sleeves._

_“Do we have to go?” Tamid asked. “Can’t Amaya teach me? She showed me things already.”_

 

“So, she liked blue?” Shae asked and indicated his sash. “Is that why you always have something blue on now?”

“Do you think I shouldn’t?” he asked. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but all of a sudden he wasn’t sure anymore.

“Why would you think that you shouldn’t?” Shae asked.

“I… don’t really know,” he answered. “I mean—I remember bits and pieces. And I- as far as I know, I’m the only one who even cares she’s dead. But… what if I’m making her into less than she was? A dead girl who liked blue?”

Shae shifted, so that she was kneeling instead of sitting cross-legged and put her hands on her knees. She frowned in concentration for a moment, before saying anything. “But you just said it, didn’t you? You know that she was more than that and you want to remember her. There’s nothing wrong in that.” She offered her hand, and he took it. “You’re grieving—you couldn’t do it after your sister died, but now you can.”

Which was definitely true. He wasn’t even sure he knew how this was supposed to go, but so far it seemed like Shae at least thought he wasn’t getting it terribly wrong.

“What else do you remember about her?” Shae asked.

 

 

 

_The blocks were suspended in mid-fall and Amaya’s hand was stretched out. She gestured and they settled down, instead of scattering all over._

_“Hey!” Tamid protested. “Not fair!”_

_“It’s fair, because it means I won’t have to clean up the mess you make,” Amaya replied._

_“I’m not making a mess—I’m a dragon and I’m destroying a castle,” Tamid replied in his best reasonable voice. Really, why did she have to make such a fuss about it all?_

_“Hey, how about I teach you how to do this-“ Amaya said and reached out towards the blocks again. One of them floated up and hovered between her hand and the floor. “Then we can have a contest, who can put more blocks into one place faster—that’s more fun than building something only to crash it, right?”_

 

 

 

“She taught you?” Shae asked leaning towards him.

He nodded. “I don’t really remember much of it—I don’t think she had much time,” he said. He reached out and lifted a small stone. It hovered between his hand and the grass. With a flick of his wrist, he made it fly. It landed a few meters away from them. “That’s-“

He had wanted to say that that was it. A little insignificant detail, but… that wasn’t true. It had been a beginning. Without that beginning, would he had even known that there was more than what the Rakata had taught him? Without Amaya he might have never become anything other but a Force Hound.

“Is something wrong?” Shae asked, now sounding concerned.

He shook his head. “Nothing.” He hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts and phrase it into something coherent.

So what if all his sister had ever been was gone? For a moment, she had lived and she had changed the world around her. Those changes—they were still alive, as long as he was. And maybe even longer than that—perhaps he could make sure of that.

“I just thought that even if she died, she isn’t completely gone. Sort of like becoming part of the Force after death, except- you affect people while you live and so do the people you had influence on, and- maybe as long as someone with a mind is alive, no one really dies completely?”

That had sounded a lot clearer in his head, but Shae nodded along. “I think I see what you mean. We’re shaped by interactions with others—and even long after we’ll die, there will people who carry an echo of us, our ideas and our thoughts.”

That was a comforting thought—that maybe, even if he was all that was left of the place he was born in, something of it would still live on. And if so, there was one more thing he needed to do.

“I think I’ve decided,” he said. “About my name. It’s Tamid. Tamid Rann.” It still sounded a bit alien to him, but the echo of a girl’s scream was gone. “Or well, that’s who I was in the beginning. It’s Tamid Rann-Koda now, right?”

  

* * *

 

 

“How memory works is really fascinating,” Daegen said, as he thumbed through the contents of a datapad. Tamid suspected that it meant he was going to get several very dry scientific texts to read, because that was what asking Daegen about most things tended to lead to.

“You say that about anything that’s related to brains,” Tamid commented.

“I wouldn’t have chosen to study brains if I didn’t think they’re worth studying, would I?” Daegen replied. “But in any case, your memories are not like books on a shelf—they’re bits and pieces, stored in various parts of your brain. Every time you remember something, you reconstruct it from those pieces. And what you rebuild is never exactly the same—what you’ve learned since you last remembered something will affect what you recall.”

“But that doesn’t explain why I only remember bits and pieces of my childhood,” Tamid said.

“It’s fairly common with people who’ve had a traumatic childhood,” Daegen replied. “And given that we know you were no older than five when the rakata enslaved you, it’s really amazing how much you recall from before you’ve been taken from your home planet.

“Even taking into account that you were still young enough to have trouble distinguishing between reality and fiction—"

“Wait, you mean not everything I think I remember is true?” Tamid asked, both suddenly terrified and hopeful. What if it really wasn’t all that bad as he remembered? What if he’d lied?

But at the same time… At the same time, he’d have gladly accepted all of that, if it meant that the damn nightmare of a woman dying was just that. A dream, a story he'd built up or heard and-

“It’s possible,” Daegen said. “We can’t say for sure if all of it happened to you or if you’d simply seen it happen to someone else. Regardless, in the end, it’s real for you, isn’t it? And even if some of what you remember is not completely accurate, it doesn’t change that you’ve suffered.”


	25. Epilogue

Formerly Third Wife, and currently Mother-Regent Ceh’let did not sit at the top of the table. That place was reserved for the Dictator, who right now was fast asleep. A growing boy needed his sleep, after all. It would be unseemly if his mother used this to place herself too overtly in power. Perhaps in a year or so, she could move to her late husband’s place, but her position was not solidified nearly enough for a move that bold yet.

Everyone knew that Skal'nas had made a misstep of some sort in the courtly game. Every dancer eventually did. That was how the Empire remained strong—by relentlessly hounding every misstep, so that those who fell never pulled others with themselves.

It was a pity about Tul’kar. He’d been a fine predor and still quite the looker, but sacrifice was required of anyone who reached for power. Besides, he could have tried blackmailing her, and she couldn’t have that.

With a wave of her hand, she directed a slave with a platter where a spit made of womp rat tail bones was cooling surrounded by pate made of the over-grown rodent’s brains. The slave, a lithe human girl, placed it daintily in front of liktor Sundaa, whom kurul Anak had sent in his stead. The Corellian ambassador would definitely hear her message, and hopefully, wouldn’t try insulting her by sending a mere junior officer again. Or if not, than Sundaa would at least understand the implication—that all she wanted to see from him was his behind, as he left the chamber.

Predor Toaa, Tul’kar’s current successor as the military leader, rose, indicating a wish to speak.

Ceh’let nodded—she wasn’t going to risk offending him yet.

“Our late lord had plans,” Toaa said bluntly. “We need to know if we can continue.”

She had expected the matter to come up, naturally. Force-sensitive slaves were valuable, and capturing a fresh batch, especially a large one, would have been a matter of great prestige. Had there been any Force-sensitives to enslave on the planet, it would have been an easy choice.

“We still do not know what it is that is so powerful on this world,” she answered. “And I will not risk a third scouting mission, when three beings have already met a violent end.”

Toaa’s expression soured. “Nothing will stand faced with the might of the Infinite Empire.”

“That is true,” Ceh’let admitted immediately. The truth of this was self-evident and all around them. Had they not slaves from countless worlds? Had they not riches aplenty? Could they not bend the Force to their will, like the unruly animal that it was?

“Then give the command,” Toaa said leaning forward.

“I will give it once we are ready,” Ceh’let replied coldly. Was he trying to probe her, to see if she was too weak, or was he merely impatient?

“We are ready,” Toaa snapped. “There’s no reason to dawdle uselessly.”

He was going to contest her will. There was really one answer she could give him.

“I think you are getting ahead of yourself, predor,” she said, stretching her hand out. “We will invade this world, but we will do so when _I_ have deemed it fit.”

Toaa growled, frustrated, “This is why we do not let women plot military campaigns. You are too timid, Regent. Give the order now.”

Ceh’let saw that he’d not stop insisting until she either listened to him—and made herself look weak—or silenced him. The answer which she’d choose was obvious to her. Lightning arced from her fingers and hit Toaa square in the chest. It crackled over his form as he thrashed. She did not relent until his eyes were smoking, boiled in their stalks. Then, she let her hand fall, and just as it dropped, so did Toaa.

“Perhaps your successor will not be as hard of hearing,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for anyone who's reading this and has been too comment (which by the way, don't be, I don't bite)--the story will continue in a new story. Stay tuned, first chapter will be up around the 6th or 7th of January.


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